


The World is Not Enough

by orphan_account



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - James Bond Fusion, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, F/F, Human Trafficking, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-07 11:36:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 50,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5455145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chloe Price is the best agent the CIA has to offer- tough, precise, and unafraid to take risks. Being assigned to Max Caulfield, a photojournalist hellbent on finding her kidnapped friend, isn't even close to the hardest job she's ever had.</p>
<p>It's the most compromising, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> James Bond AU! We've been working on this for so long and it's finally here! Hope everyone enjoys this collaboration hell and hangs on for the ride.
> 
>   
> Thanks so much to [Raaimu for the image!!](http://raaimu.tumblr.com/)

It’s too early when her phone rings.

It’s always too early when her phone rings.

Chloe squints in the unfamiliar dimness, dragging herself out of the bed and fumbling on the ground for her pants. Her phone rings, again, sharp and shrill, and she winces, the noise rebounding inside her skull.

In the bed, Megan stirs, muttering something about damned alarms.

Chloe blinks at the screen. 7 AM. ‘R.’

“Yeah?” Chloe mumbles, before R’s curt and clear voice suddenly cuts into her ear.

“Agent Price. New assignment. Report to HQ as soon as you can.” Her boss hangs up, and Chloe’s left listening to the end dial tone.

Right. R was never a person that liked to beat around the bush.

Chloe sighs and starts pulling her pants on, using the light of her phone to find the rest of her clothes, trying to clear her mind. But even in the tiny light from the screen, she winces, feeling the burn at the edges of her eyes. She might’ve gone overboard with the drinks last night -- it happens -- and goddamnit, when she gets to work, she knows Brooke’s gonna give her that smug asshole smile. Only Brooke enjoys it when she looks like a piece of shit.

“Heading out?” Megan asks, drawing the blanket up her bare chest and glancing over at Chloe.

“Yeah, work. Thanks for last night, Meg,” Chloe says, stepping into the bathroom and turning on the light there. It blinds her, for a second, but she needs to get herself awake anyway. 

“Sure.”

The water from the faucet is cool, and she can hear Megan moving around her room, opening her closet.

“You interested in doing this again?” Megan calls out to her.

It was fun. Chloe admits that much.

But it’s just like all the other hookups. A one time thing.

“I’ll let you know.”

Chloe comes out to see Megan’s on her bed, wearing a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, scrolling through her phone. She glances up, running a hand through her short, blonde hair when Chloe starts picking up her discarded clothes.

“You always dress in suits?” Megan asks.

Chloe shrugs, buttoning up her shirt, flattening out the collar in the reflection of the mirror on the wall. Then she buckles her belt before straightening her suspenders; her shock of blue hair stands out from her ‘business’ uniform.

“Be seeing you,” Chloe says, heading out the door.

“See you.”

\---

When she slams the door to her truck and revs the engine, she already feels tired. A glance in her rearview mirror is enough to tell her that the bags underneath her eyes are a sign of lack of normalcy.

Normal.

As if she’s ever been able to recognize normal.

She stops by her apartment to take a shower and put on a new suit. Her place is empty, except for a few necessities. Bare walls. A table, a chair. A bed. Clothes in the closet. Handguns in the space below the loose floorboard in the kitchen. 

She doesn’t need anything else.

When she slides her PPK into its holster at her hip, she looks at herself in the cracked bathroom mirror; she reaches her fist up, holds it right up against the spot where she’d punched it so long ago.

When she’d picked the glass shards out of her hand later that night, she hadn’t felt any pain. After a couple of bullets a month for the last...shit, how many years? The physical pain feels like nothing, just small pin-pricks in her skin that bleed and tell her she’s still alive.

She leaves the apartment and gets into her truck again, driving that same route to headquarters, the one that never changes.

When she gets to work, she doesn’t even look at the elevator button when she presses it, doesn’t look at the floor number either. Muscle memory’s enough for her to go on.

When she gets to the top floor, she’s greeted by Dana Moneypenny’s award-winning smile.

She knows Dana’s always grateful for time off from the field. Dana’s never been one for field work. She prefers her desk job in front of R’s office, prefers being a glorified secretary over the hail of gunfire that usually happens when she’s paired with Chloe. Not that Chloe blames her.

Even if the two are total opposites, she knows Dana’s always got her back. Dana’s saved her ass multiple times.

She hopes it’s not Dana that ends up finding her dead in a ditch someday.

“Hey, beautiful,” Chloe says, grinning and winking as she steps out of the elevator.

Dana rolls her eyes, gestures with her coffee mug at the set of double doors to her right. “C’mon, Chloe. You’ve been here long enough to know that complimenting me won’t get me to soften up R for you.”

“‘Course not, I know that,” Chloe says, placing her palm flat on Dana’s desk and leaning forward. “You look fucking amaz-”

“And _you’re_ late, so you better haul ass and get inside, hotshot,” Dana says, taking a sip from her mug.

“She said to get here as soon as I could, so here I am!”

“You know as well as I do that R expects you to show up at ten for new assignments, and oh, look at the time,” Dana says dryly, pointing a finger at the clock on the wall. “It’s eleven. You could at least _try_ sometimes, Chlo.”

“I try. I try all the time when I’m out there, you know, shootin’ up the bad guys,” Chloe says, miming two finger guns and making small ‘pew pew’ noises under her breath.

“Shootin’ up? Chloe, you literally _blow_ things up every mission,” Dana says pointedly, pulling up on her computer a series of images of cars on fire, buildings demolished, helicopters and planes smashed into the ground. “And let’s not forget your last mission--”

“That kingpin started firing at me with a fucking grenade launcher! What was I supposed to do, just stand there and let him blow me up--”

“No, but your plan was to take a _rocket launcher_ and blow _him_ up instead,” Dana says, almost slamming her mug on the table. “You almost _died_ \- you took out the entire cliffside, him and you with it.”

Chloe looks away from Dana’s sharp gaze, chewing on the inside of her cheek. It takes her a moment, and she swallows before answering.

“Yeah, but I got the job done. Kingpin came out alive, even though his legs were all fucked up, and he was arrested for his crimes,” Chloe says, brushing some dust off her shoulder. “Done and done. Mission accomplished. That’s what matters.”

“ _You_ matter too, Chloe,” Dana says, her voice a little softer. She leans back in her chair, reaching behind her to tighten her ponytail. “I care about what happens to you, you know. And as much as Q’s an asshole to you, I know she cares too. You need to take care of yourself.”

“I am taking care of myself,” Chloe says automatically, but even she can hear the hollowness of the words. And she knows it doesn’t fool Dana, from the way Dana purses her lips, the way her jaw tightens, just slightly.

“I know this might just seem like work to you, Chloe,” Dana says, picking up her mug again. “But we’re your friends. Honestly, we’re just trying to look out for you.”

“Dana,” Chloe starts, looking her in the eye this time. “I'm literally one of the best agents in the CIA. I can look after myself.”

Maybe it’s the way she says it that gets Dana to drop the subject, but Dana just shakes her head and waves a hand at the set of double doors again.

“Right, sure, Chloe. R will see you now.”

Chloe lets out a huff of breath before shoving her hands in her pockets and sauntering over to the set of double doors. 

Same old, same old.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s eleven-oh-five when Chloe comes sauntering into Rachel’s office, and Rachel supposes she should at least be grateful there’s no lipstick stain on Chloe’s collar.

She doesn’t bother looking up from where she’s sorting through her files when Chloe comes to a standstill in front of her desk. “Reporting for duty, R.”

“Did Miss Moneypenny already read you the riot act for being late?” Rachel says, finding the folder she’s looking for and placing it neatly in front of Chloe. 

Chloe doesn’t look at it yet, is too busy giving Rachel the slightly lopsided smirk that’s grown worn and familiar with time. “Don’t worry about it, boss. You know she’s better at following orders than I am.”

One of these days, that joke’s going to be funny. “Unfortunately for both of us, I do know that,” Rachel says. Then she folds her hands across the desk, looks Chloe in the eyes. “Your new assignment is one of international significance. Do you understand?”

Instead of sobering up, Chloe just shrugs, falling lazily into the armchair across from the desk. “Lay it on me, R.”

If she wasn’t so good at her job, Rachel would have fired Chloe every week for nearly as long as she’s been working here. Even now it’s a struggle not to rub her temples. “For the last eight or nine years, an illicit human trafficking ring has been on the rise throughout the United States and western Europe. They have gained considerable power and prestige in the criminal underground, but despite their growth as an organization, it has been extremely hard to locate or infiltrate the ring. The abductions that take place are exceptionally cleanly handled, their underlings exceptionally closed-mouthed. We have not been able to acquire a lead on their mechanics in nearly a decade.”

“Until now,” Chloe supplies. Her eyes have now flicked, with interest, to the manila folder on the desk.

“Until now,” Rachel agrees. She opens the folder and takes out the first headshot, hands it over to Chloe. “Two months ago, this girl disappeared from a hotel room in Venice. Kate Marsh, twenty-three, American. That’s where we get involved.”

Chloe takes a good look at the shot of Kate Marsh- it’s a personal photo supplied by Rachel’s contact, and in it the girl looks happy and young, endearing. “Didn’t you get into this business through a human trafficking bust, R?”

“That’s confidential, Agent Price,” Rachel says shortly. Always, there are rumors going around. Always there’s going to be some new whisper about how R is so young and yet still on top. She’s never going to prove any of them right. “And I would appreciate it if you did not ask again.”

Unfazed, Chloe just shrugs, still looking at the photo. “Sure. How do we know she was taken by the ring?” 

“That’s where the trail starts,” Rachel says, and nudges the rest of the folder forward. Chloe takes it, but doesn’t open it yet, is still looking up at Rachel in wait. “Kate Marsh was in Venice on a missionary trip with four other Americans. All have gone missing, which leads us to believe that the trip was a cover for abducting these women. However, unlike the other four, Marsh did not disappear silently. Moments before her presumed abduction, she was in contact with this woman.”

She nods towards the folder, and Chloe flips it open to find a dossier. The first thing she does is lift up the headshot, hold it to the light.

“Her name is Maxine Caulfield,” Rachel says. The photo’s just transparent enough that she can make out the mirror image of what Chloe can see - a pretty young woman, with short hair and a camera slung around her neck, slightly turned away from the lens. “She is Kate Marsh’s closest friend, and an accomplished photojournalist.”

“Espionage?”

“Commercial, mostly,” Rachel says, tapping her nails across the wood of the desk. “But she’s spent her time in the warzone. Now, it seems Miss Caulfield was under the same impression as Kate Marsh, that her trip to Italy was church-sponsored. But after Miss Marsh’s disappearance, she seems to now believe what we are presuming, that Kate Marsh’s entire kidnapping was orchestrated by human traffickers.”

“She’s cute,” Chloe says vaguely, photo still held carefully between her thumb and index finger.

Because she is a professional, Rachel does not roll her eyes, but it’s a close call. “Focus, Agent Price.”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” Chloe says, putting the photo back into the folder and skimming over Maxine Caulfield’s resume. “So, what makes Miss Maxine believe that her friend was taken by human traffickers?”

Just from Caulfield’s file, it seems as though she’s insightful enough to get a handle on things pretty quickly. Still, that’s not a government-sanctioned answer, so Rachel just sighs. “That’s where your mission begins. Miss Caulfield has been conducting a private investigation as to the whereabouts of Kate Marsh for nearly two months without notifying authorities. It seems she’s finally gotten desperate enough to privately contact the CIA to ask for our involvement, but she has refused to disclose any information she’s gathered to our office contacts. We’re sending you in to rendezvous with her at King’s Bar at sixteen hundred hours, gather whatever information she has, and begin to follow the trail.”

“Got it,” Chloe says, snapping the folder closed and standing up. “Nice of you, R, setting up blind dates for me like this.”

Typical. This time Rachel can’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. “Agent Price, this is a delicate operation. Please treat it as such.” She makes sure to catch Chloe’s eyes, hold them to hers. “I’m counting on you. Understand?”

She’s got to hand it to Chloe- at least she always meets Rachel’s eyes when she says, “Understood.” It’s better than most of her operatives do.

“Good,” Rachel says, and closes the drawer underneath her desk. “Report to Q immediately. I expect daily reports from here on in. Dismissed.”

Chloe salutes her on the way out, which she certainly should be reprimanded for under the insubordination addendum, but Rachel doesn’t have enough time in her day to bother. Instead, as soon as Chloe’s gone, she leans back across her chair, closes her eyes, and exhales.

Human trafficking rings. Girls getting snatched up and away.

She’s just going to have to trust that Chloe means what she says when she says she understands.

\---

When Chloe gives a farewell wink to Dana just before the elevator doors close, she sees Dana just roll her eyes in return; but the moment she’s alone among the four steel walls, she leans into a corner, dropping her smile and letting the numbness wash over her again.

Human trafficking ring. Probably some old spoiled rich guy at the top who thinks he’s the most powerful man in the world. Standard procedure. Follow the trail he leaves behind, beat him up a little, hand him over to local authorities.

It’s always the same thing.

Nothing changes.

The elevator gives a small ding when it reaches the bottom most floor of the building; a floor that, according to building blueprints, doesn’t exist. It’s a subterranean floor that houses the CIA’s most advanced technology and its resident Quartermaster, a brilliant scientist and innovator.

Brooke Scott.

“Well, well, Agent Price is back,” Brooke’s voice carries over to Chloe from all the way across the warehouse-sized room.

“Aw, I missed you too, Brooke,” Chloe says, walking forward; on either side are small workstations, manned by robots and their human assistants, creating new tools for agents in the field. Chloe has to duck her head a little when a drone zooms by above her, clutching a handful of blueprints to its body as it flies over to its recipients.

“We. Are. At. Work. My. Name. Is. Q,” Brooke says through grit teeth, looking up from her desk at the other end of the room. She attaches another plan to another drone and sends it off before glaring, narrow-eyed, at Chloe. “R told me you’d be coming.”

“Sure, Brooke. Got any new toys for me?” Chloe asks, leaning against Brooke’s desk.

Brooke clenches her fists, but says nothing, only turns around and gestures for Chloe to follow her to a nearby workstation.

“If I had it my way, I wouldn’t give you any toys at all,” Brooke mutters. 

“Do I get another car?” Chloe asks eagerly, glancing around -- there’s a sharp and sleek Aston Martin being prepped nearby, and on the opposite side of the room, Chloe spots a Maserati.

“God, I hope not,” Brooke says, picking up a box from underneath the workstation and putting it on the table. “You drove our last company car into the _ocean_ , Agent Price. There goes one million dollars in taxpayer money,” she adds under her breath.

“Okay, yeah, I’ll admit, that one was on me,” Chloe says, picking up something that looks akin to the handle of a lightsaber; immediately, Brooke whips her hand out and snatches it from Chloe, holding it protectively close to her chest.

“ _Everything_ you destroy is on you, you big blue buffoon,” Brooke says, sliding open a drawer and delicately placing the lightsaber handle inside. “Anyway, what _I_ have for you is this.”

She points at the box on the table.

Chloe looks at it.

It’s tiny.

“What’s in it? A miniature gnome?” Chloe asks, glancing from the box and back to Brooke’s offended expression.

Brooke pokes the box closer to Chloe. “Yeah, it’s a fucking gnome that explodes. Your trademark,” Brooke says dryly. “Open it.”

Chloe eases the lid off the box, looking inside to see a shiny new PPK/S, fitted comfortably inside soft foam encasing; next to it lies a magazine, fully loaded.

“Wow, you’ve really outdone yourself this time, Brooke. You actually left your nerd cave and bought me a new gun,” Chloe says dryly, taking it out and inserting the magazine, hearing that satisfying click. “Did the sun burn you when you got outside?”

“I’ve modified it, dumbass,” Brooke says, sliding closer to Chloe and pointing at the handle. “No one else can fire it except you. Made it handprint activated.”

Chloe raises her eyebrows at that remark, but nonetheless hands Brooke the old PPK in her holster to Brooke. She grips her new one firmly in her hand, and notices a small, tiny green light appear just above the handle, next to the safety.

“I know how many fist fights you get into. Sometimes they take your gun,” Brooke says, reaching up and letting a nearby drone take her old PPK away. Even though Brooke’s not making eye contact with her, Chloe can hear just the barest amount of concern and worry in her voice, can see the lines in Brooke’s forehead crease just slightly. “So, you know, I made this modified version of your PPK. So you can thank me when it saves your ass later.”

It takes Chloe a moment to say anything, but she manages to. “Thanks, Brooke.”

Might as well thank Brooke now, because Chloe’s not sure just a modified gun is gonna be enough to save her later.

Brooke shrugs and gives a noncommittal grunt. She gestures for Chloe to follow her again and gets to another workstation, opens a drawer, and withdraws an even tinier box from inside.

“What’s up with all these tiny boxes? You expecting me to raid a dollhouse or some shit?” Chloe asks, hand already reaching out to grab the box before Brooke’s hand slaps it away.

“With your level of competence at keeping what I give you, I wouldn’t even trust you with that much,” Brooke says, opening the lid of the box and taking out a glistening silver Rolex watch. “Here, your arm.”

Chloe offers her arm, and Brooke straps the watch on her wrist, turning Chloe’s arm this way and that. “Good, good. Fits fine.”

“What’s it do?”

Brooke taps on the crown on the side of the clock face. “Hold it down for ten seconds, and then there’ll be a minute countdown until it explodes.”

“You wonder why I blow things up all the time, Brooke! You always give me things that explode,” Chloe says, giving a shit-eating grin, but Brooke just rolls her eyes and takes her hands away from Chloe’s arm.

“Thought it might help you when you’re in a bind and need a way out,” Brooke says.

“Sounds great. Anything else I get to have before I head out?” Chloe asks, and she walks over to the nearby Aston Martin, smooth and sleek and practically glowing in the radiance of the lights above. “Like…?”

Brooke stiffens. “R did _not_ requisition you a new car, Agent Price, so _no_ , you are _not_ getting the Aston Martin.”

Chloe lets out an exasperated huff. “Oh, c’mon, Brooke, cut me a little slack--”

“I’ll cut you some slack when you can go one mission without blowing shit up,” Brooke says before placing her hands on Chloe’s shoulders and pushing her towards the elevator.

“Alright, alright,” Chloe says, sighing and taking a step into the elevator. “Guess I’ll be on my way out then.”

Brooke purses her lips, then glances around her before looking Chloe directly in the eye. “Be careful out there, Chloe.”

Chloe presses the button to go back up. “Yeah, I’ll try. Thanks, Q.”

Chloe has enough time to see Brooke’s face before the doors close; she’s not convinced at all.


	3. Chapter 3

If Max was reluctant about going to the CIA in the first place, the fact that she’s been sitting in this shitty bar for a half hour and her contact is ten minutes late isn’t helping.

It’s not like she hasn’t been on the lookout, either. She has been. She’s clutching her bag with her files in both hands and her phone is sitting in front of her and she keeps looking around anxiously every thirty seconds, but there’s no sign from anyone in this bar that they’re here for a professional rendezvous. On the upside, there’s no one who looks like they’re here to murder Max and destroy her research, either, but she’s keeping her eye open for that too. 

She’s so distracted by searching that she barely notices the woman who slides into the barstool next to her until she speaks. “Hey, beautiful.”

Even that doesn’t entirely catch Max’s attention- she keeps looking around for a potential contact until she notices that the woman is actually looking at her, waiting patiently for a response. Max blinks at her, holding her bag a little tighter in both hands, before deciding that she probably isn’t a threat, and definitely can’t be the contact. She’s too eye-catching, business-suited and slouching with a shock of blue hair.

Whoever she is, though, she smiles lazily at Max and loosens her tie. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Max has been nursing a glass of water for the entire time she’s been here, but she’s pretty sure alcohol isn’t going to do anything positive for her nerves. Besides, she’s not really in a position to engage in small talk right now either. “Um, no, thank you. I’m waiting for someone, actually.”

The woman just shrugs, like she hadn’t expected any better. “The pretty ones always are,” she says easily, and turns away to make some sort of gesture at the bartender. Max checks her phone, then does another cursory search around the bar. Still no sign of any sort of contact.

Kate deserves better than this. 

She’s nearly considering just taking her phone and leaving, fuck the CIA if they won’t take her seriously, she’ll do this all on her own if she has to, and she’s so distracted by her own indignation that she barely hears the woman next to her say, “Maxine Caulfield, right?”

At first, she doesn’t even register it, just nods distractedly. Then it clicks.

There’s been a knife for olives sitting across the bar from Max the whole time she’s been here, and instantly it’s in her hand, an inch from the soft part of the woman’s ribs, and she’s glaring as hard as she can, entirely zoned in on the woman’s not-nearly-startled-enough expression. She clutches her bag tighter to her chest with her other hand, pressed flat over its flap and the heart beating beyond the canvas. “Who are you? Who sent you?”

When the woman just chuckles, Max points the knife closer, praying her hand doesn’t shake. It barely does, she thinks the woman doesn’t notice, and the woman raises both hands in acquiescence. “All right, easy, easy. Here.”

She reaches into her suit jacket, and the point of Max’s knife touches at her shirt. Max doesn’t know if she has the ability to stab this woman for real in the middle of a crowded bar, but she can sort of make it look like she _could_ if she wanted to. The woman looks up at Max again, through light eyelashes, and smirks, but she does slow her movements, carefully withdrawing a badge. “I’m from the CIA, I’m here to discuss the Kate Marsh disappearance.”

The badge looks real, but Max has learned very well that photos lie all the time. She snatches it from the woman with the hand that’s not holding the knife and examines it carefully, tracing over the embossed insignia with her thumb and reading over the information carefully. 

If it’s a fake, then it’s the best counterfeit Max has ever encountered. And the woman does match the picture.

Still, her tone is disbelieving when she looks back up at the woman and says, “You’re the agent they sent?”

“That’s right,” the woman says, taking two drinks from the bartender, placing one in front of Max, and taking a swig from the second. “I’m Price, Chloe Price. You’re a pretty tough cookie, Maxine.”

She’s snapping, “It’s _Max_ ,” before she realizes that the two of them should really be on a last name basis. Gritting her teeth, she hands the badge back and places the knife next to her on the counter, still within reaching distance. “You’re really the agent they sent to rendezvous with me?”

Agent Price- probably a fake name, Max doesn’t know anything about CIA protocol but she’s pretty sure agents shouldn’t be handing out their full identities willy-nilly- just grins around the lip of her drink. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” Max mutters, toying with the straps of her bag and trying to think of a way to say this that doesn’t sound like a come-on or like an insult. “Just that… I don’t know, you don’t look like what I figured a secret agent would look like.” 

A tall woman with blue hair seems like she would sort of ruin the element of surprise required for the secret part of secret agent. But the woman just grins at her out of the corner of her eyes, takes another sip of her drink, and puts it down. “Thanks. So, Max. What is it you wanted to tell me, in person, about Kate Marsh?” She nods towards Max’s bag. “I hear you’ve really been doing your research.”

Unconsciously, Max’s hand drifts over to her phone and settles on it. Agent Price’s gaze follows the movement, and she nods towards it. “I’ve also been told you were the last person Kate Marsh was in contact with. Do you mind if I-?”

Her hand is reaching out for Max’s phone before she’s done speaking, but Max is snatching her phone away even before that. “No!” she says, and when Agent Price lifts her eyebrows, she licks her lips nervously, sinks back a little against the barstool. “Um. The reason I wanted to meet with you is, um. I want to, uh. Negotiate. With you. With the CIA.”

Agent Price keeps smiling, but her eyes go a little sharper, and she does a quick second search of Max’s expression, something close to amusement but closer to bemusement crossing her face. “Negotiate,” she repeats.

“Yes!” Max says, pulling her phone into her chest to clutch along with her bag. “Listen. You said you knew I was doing this all on my own. And I was, because no one else was looking into it, but I’m out of resources. I need help. But I don’t plan on you taking my information and leaving me out of the loop.”

“Oh really,” Agent Price says evenly, and she reaches to take a sip of her drink.

When she shifts, Max can see just a flash of a gun holster at her waist, before her jacket covers it again. She swallows. “Yes, really. So I want- my deal is, I’m going to hand over all of my information to you and explain what I know. But wherever you go next, I’m coming with you. We’re going to work together to save Kate.”

Finishing off her drink, Agent Price drags the back of her hand across her mouth and shakes her head. “That’s not how this works, Max.”

Hearing her name come easy out of the agent’s mouth, colloquial, unprofessional, is enough to put some of the fire back into Max’s retort. “That is how it’s going to work. No one understands Kate like I do, you’ll never find her or get anywhere without me. And if I don’t have a guarantee you’ll let me come with you, all of my information-” She taps her bag, then her phone. “All of everything I’ve gathered, it’s going to burn. There aren’t any copies. But I’ll remember. I’ll do what I can on my own, _without_ your help.”

There’s a new look in Agent Price’s eyes now when their gazes meet again. It’s no longer amused, but it’s not threatening either. Just curious, in a light, intrigued kind of way. Max holds her bag tighter to her chest, and does her best to look like she absolutely means what she says, like she’s threatened government personnel a hundred times before. 

“You know,” Agent Price says, one arm falling across the bar and into Max’s space, fingers tapping lightly against the polished stone, “Despite first impressions, I am a highly trained operative. I could just take the information from you.”

Max tries not to make her deep breath look as deep as it is. “I’m sure you could,” she says. “But I would scream.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Agent Price says, and now there is something kind of like danger in her eyes. “I’m faster than that.”

Now she is starting to look like Max’s idea of a secret agent. “Maybe,” Max says, through a pretty dry throat. “But I know you’ve read my resume. I have connections in some pretty high places. I don’t know how tight the CIA’s operations are at the moment, but. If you take my possessions without my consent, things could get pretty messy. For you.”

One of Agent Price’s eyebrows lift, an interest in the challenge, but this isn’t what Max came here for. “But I don’t want to do that,” she says, and she really doesn’t, because it would be time consuming and painful and useless and Kate needs her help right _now_. “All I want is to find my friend.” She meets Agent Price’s eyes, does her best not to waver. “Please.”

That changes something in Agent Price’s expression, but Max can’t tell what it is, exactly. All she knows is that Agent Price’s hands move from the bar to settle, folded, on her knees, and she leans forward, just slightly, into Max’s space.

“I understand wanting to help your friend, Max,” she says quietly, and Max leans back a little, startled. “I do. But situations like these- they’re dangerous. They’re not meant for civilians.”

If Max didn’t know that, she’d be out of her job. “I know that. And I’m not a civilian, I’ve done-”

Agent Price waves one hand lazily. “I know, I know. I did read your resume. But this- this is going to be messy. Unlike anything even you’ve ever seen. Women like you, they don’t belong where I’m going.”

The hand she had waved with has come down to settle on Max’s knee. Max looks down at it, surprised. “Women like me?” she repeats.

“Yeah,” Agent Price murmurs, and Max doesn’t know when she leaned close enough that Max could feel her breath on her face. “Pretty girls like you, it’s best you stay out of messes like these.”

Her nose is brushing against Max’s, and Max can feel Agent Price’s hand over hers against the strap of the bag, when she gets what’s going on. “Excuse me? What is this?”

“What does it look like?” Agent Price breathes.

What the _fuck_. “Are you trying to- to seduce me out of my information?” Max says, and she’s not bothering to whisper, not even against Agent Price’s breathy murmur. “Is that what’s happening here?”

For a moment, Agent Price pauses. Then she says, “Is it working?”

“What- no, get _off_ me,” Max says, and shoves her away with both hands, cradling her bag again with newfound indignation. “Listen! I’m not giving you anything, not under any circumstance, unless I have it sworn to me I’m coming with you on this mission! So unless you’re going to swear that to me or whoever’s in charge is going to send a more professional agent, we’re both on our own, understand?”

Finally, Agent Price’s expression twists out of amusement into something more aghast. “More professional?” she repeats. “I’ll have you know-”

Max just glares at her. For a moment they hold eyes, then Agent Price huffs and gets off the stool. 

“I need to make a phone call,” she grouses, then points a stern finger at Max. “Don’t go anywhere. And have a drink, Jesus, loosen up a little.”

She’d almost forgotten about the second drink, and she takes a look at it as Agent Price starts ambling away. Then she calls after her, “I don’t drink scotch!”

She’s pretty sure she hears Agent Price mutter, “typical,” before she disappears outside the bar doors.

\---

Chloe opens the door to the bar and then takes a step to the side, glancing back through the glass to see Max is still sitting there, looking reproachful and still clutching her goddamn bag to her chest. 

The phone rings once before R answers.

“What, Agent Price?”

“We have a problem,” Chloe says through gritted teeth.

R’s voice gains an edge. “What problem?”

“Caulfield won’t give us the info unless she can come with me,” Chloe answers.

“What do you mean, come with you?” R sounds incredulous at the other end.

“She wants to save her friend. She wants to come with me, wants us to do it together,” Chloe says; she glances back inside to see Max saying something to the bartender, who nods. “She’ll burn all her info if she can’t.”

R’s silent at the other end for a solid minute. Chloe fidgets with one of the buttons on her blazer.

“I- we- don’t have time for this,” R suddenly says brusquely. “Get the info, somehow. We can’t bring her-"

“I _tried_ , R,” Chloe says, and she clenches her fist. “If I try to force it from her, she’ll blackmail the CIA using the press. If I don’t let her come, we lose all the info. She isn’t fucking around.”

“She came prepared, damn it,” R mutters, and Chloe hears her give an irritated huff of breath. “What is she doing right now?”

“She’s just fucking sitting at the bar, looking at me like she wants to punch me,” Chloe says, chancing another look at Max - she’s taking a tentative sip of her drink, but her glare reaches Chloe, even from there.

“My sympathies lie with her,” R says dryly. Chloe hears rustling at the other end of the line, Rachel picking up and shuffling papers. “She’s not stupid. Clearly she’s thought this through.”

“So? Do I take her with me or do I arrest her and bring her in?”

“No, no, arresting her won’t do us any good. If we did that and released her, even after we saved her friend, she’d still be able to blackmail us,” R says, and then she sighs. “Fine. I don’t want to waste anymore time with this mission. Let her go with you.”

Chloe chews on the corner of her lip. Fuck. It’s hard enough going on missions when it’s just her and Dana. She can barely imagine the amount of work she’d have to do to get Max to keep up with her.

“Fine. I’ll let her know.”

\---

It’s fifteen minutes before Agent Price comes back into the bar, and by that time Max has ordered herself a real drink. As nervous as she’d been before, she doesn’t think she’ll be able to get through the rest of this rendezvous without some alcohol in her.

She starts to get hopeful when Agent Price dumps herself back into the stool beside her, looking grumpy, and her suspicions are confirmed when she says, “R has okayed your tagging along on this mission.”

Max immediately puts her drink down, eyes wide. “You swear?”

“Yes, fuck, don’t make me do the Boy Scout salute, I don’t know it,” Agent Price says, waving down the bartender for another drink. When she meets Max’s eyes again, at least she finally looks serious. “But listen. I always work alone. You better not hold me back.”

So she’s one of those after all. Max rolls her eyes, and takes another sip of wine. “Don’t worry about it.”

“So,” Agent Price says, taking her drink from the bartender and looking back at Max again, “deal’s struck, Max. Tell me what you know. Why do you think Kate Marsh’s abduction was something more than a freak coincidence?”

Kate’s message is still on Max’s phone, panicked and shaky, is how. “She called me a few minutes before her disappearance,” Max says. “I’ll play the message for you when we’re in private. She was scared, she said the other girls she was with had already disappeared, and she thought someone had been following them. She said she knew she was next. And just before the call cuts out, you can hear, um, men’s voices.”

At least Agent Price looks solemn when she nods. It encourages Max to keep going, to reach into her bag and pull forth her file. “So I traced her known coordinates, I did my best to get all the surveillance photos I could exported from Venice so I could review them. If you look at the ones I put in there, it does look like Kate and the other girls are being followed by the same figure at several locations across the span of five days.” Agent Price nods, flipping through them. “And also, um, when I researched the church the mission was allegedly issued from, it does exist, and there are missions sent out regularly but this one wasn’t on its roster. Kate’s trip must have been set up from the beginning as a kidnapping plot.”

Agent Price nods again, brow creased, flipping through the rest of the files. “Fair enough. But you’re telling me Kate Marsh was aware ahead of time that she was going to be abducted? For a good couple of minutes?”

Kate’s voice, trembling and scared on the phone. Max listening from more than two thousand miles away, helpless to do anything but listen. “Yes.”

“Well then,” Agent Price says, flipping the file closed and handing it back to her. Max takes it with both hands, does her best not to hold it too tight and wrinkle the papers. “Max, I assume you’ve already packed your bags?”

Max doesn’t even have time to nod before Agent Price rolls her eyes. “Of course you have, you’re an eager beaver. Well, sweetheart, guess your adventure’s about to start.”

She stands up, places some bills on the table, and gestures at Max once, impatient. Max scurries to her feet, slinging her bag back over her shoulder. “It is?”

“Of course it is,” Agent Price says. “Have you ever been to Venice before, or are you going to need a tour guide?”


	4. Chapter 4

When she wakes, her hands are still bound. But at least her feet are free. Not that that'll make much of a difference. She's not stupid enough to try fighting the men that had brought her here, nor does she believe it's a good idea to try to get past 'Nathan.'

Because from what she hears, Nathan's a monster. Even the other henchmen are afraid of him.

When she looks around, she's in a bare room, floors made of wood panels, walls a ghostly white alabaster. She sits up, and she leans back into a corner, noticing a window to her left. The light that comes in through the gaps in the curtains looks artificial, too sharp and white and bright for sunlight; it's nighttime, then. There's a ceiling fan whirring above her, its four light bulbs a cold yellow glow.

There's nothing familiar about this room. She knows that much.

Maybe she's in the same building as the last room she was in? She can't tell; there's the sound of men's voices outside the door, dulled and muffled, same as before.

It's been like this for a while now. About two months, now, if she's been counting her days correctly.

The other girls are long gone. They were with her for the first week or so, but then the men would come in, pick a girl up, kicking and screaming, and haul her out. The last girl she remembers was drugged, to calm her down, because she'd been crying too much.

She's starting to have an idea of why they haven't taken her away yet.

She doesn't know whether to be grateful or afraid, but she knows being afraid won't do her much.

She has to be strong.

Max will find her.

Footsteps at the door, and she looks up to see it open, and she sees  _him_ , wearing a suit, and he's smiling.

But that smile - it's never reached his eyes, and it's never looked human. When she'd visited prisons and looked in the eyes of convicted criminals and felons, at least they would look back at her with remorse, regret, or even anger, or fury, it was at least  _something_  she could see.

But this man, he's blank. He makes her think of dark hallways with unopened doors at the end.

"Hello, Kate. You look wonderful today," he says, stepping forward and closing the door behind him.

She doesn't say anything. She never says anything.

"I hope they weren't too rough on you. Let me know if they are, I'll have a word with the others," he continues. He meets her eyes, but she doesn't look away from his face. She wants him to know she's not afraid.

"Look at you, Kate. Even after all of this, the way you look at me," he says, and he walks toward her and kneels down in front of her and she has to fight the urge to look away, to pull away from his hand as he gently holds her chin and looks right into her face. "You're still fighting on the inside. Of course you are."

When he takes her hand away, she considers, briefly, biting down on it, but she resists. She knows why she's here and she knows why she's kept here, and if she's to stay alive, then she needs to play the game.

For now, at least.

"Do you know what your name means, Kate? Did your parents ever tell you?" he asks, and he stands up, giving her that smile again, the one she knows must be as hollow as his heart. If he even has one.

He heads towards the window, brushes aside a curtain with a gloved hand and looks out into the street. "Kate supposedly means 'pure,' which I personally think is perfect."

She knows why he thinks it's perfect. It's the only reason she's lasted this long.

"The others you were with, those other girls - none of them came on that missionary trip looking to actually help people, you know. They all came to pad their resumes, or to get the chance to post to social media about how altruistic they are," he continues, and she sees his fist tighten on the curtain. "They were all fake, as fake as those faux leather boots and furs they all brought here."

He turns to look at her, but there's no smile on his face now. "But you, Kate, you actually came here with noble intentions. What was it your essay said? To 'save the world.'"

He turns away from the window then, clasps his hands behind his back and continues talking to her, seemingly driven by her lack of response. "All the other girls - just one look at all of them and you could tell they didn't come to Europe for the same reasons you did."

She swallows, and she can still feel the gold links of her necklace shift around her neck. They haven't taken that from her yet, thankfully.

"But you, oh, when they brought you to me, just look at you, Kate," he says, and he claps his hands. "I like to try and look at some of the girls they bring through sometimes, just to see if I can find the perfect girl."

He bends down, reaches out and grips the cross that hangs from her neck, and she doesn't move away, she sits there and she looks at him and she says nothing because she can't give him the satisfaction. She won't, she won't ever, because he's the abomination from hell- someone she's known must exist but someone that she's never imagined meeting, because she has never really wanted to believe that there could be monsters walking in sunlight on sidewalks where children play.

But here she is. Looking right at one. A man so empty and full of nothing but the things that make men monsters, in front of her, talking to her, smiling at her like he doesn't think he's hurting her.

He sighs, and looks away to the wall, dropping the cross. "Unfortunately, Kate, you're not perfect, but you're close enough to it. You're pure, at least. But perfection? Now...That's something you find once in a lifetime."

Her heart beats a little faster. If she's not perfect...She doesn't think she has a lot of time left, then.

"But for me...Ah, I love to defy the odds, Kate," he says, and he turns to look at her again, smiling.

He stands up and leans against a wall, turning his gaze to the ceiling fan above. "They say the city we're in, it used to be split into two. East, and West."

Berlin. They're in Berlin.

She's been carried from Venice, to what must have been Vienna, and now to Berlin. She hopes Max can follow the trail. She hopes Max finds the clue she left behind; but she hadn't figured out by then where they were going next. Max will need to figure out she got to Berlin...somehow.

"Can you imagine, Kate? They split the city into two halves, built a  _wall_. I've seen the dividing line myself, you know. They mark it with a black line of bricks that runs through the streets."

How long will they stay here in Berlin? There's no furniture in the room. They can't be staying here long, then. Or maybe they're going somewhere else in Berlin soon? She's trying hard to make it look like she's focused on him, but she's trying to  _think_  too, trying to figure out how she can leave a message to Max.

"But then the unification came about, and the city became whole again. The two halves, reunited," he says, and he laughs, and she has to fight down the shiver that threatens to run down her spine because that laugh is colder than the blacks of his eyes.

"Do you know what that means, Kate?" he asks, and he looks at her then, and she just looks right back at him, saying nothing.

"It means everything comes back together, at some point. And I will meet perfection again,  _soon_ , and we'll be reunited, and we'll be together, like we were always supposed to be," he says, and she swallows when he stares at her, eyes starving for something that isn't there.

"She and I will be together again. I know we will," he says, but more quietly, as if he's talking to himself now. "She may not have been pure, but Jesus… Even you would think she was blessed by the hand of God, Kate."

If that girl's blessed, she prays that he'll never find that girl.

"But I think you'll do for now, Kate," he says, and he pushes himself off the wall. "Your purity...It's intriguing."

Her hands are clasped behind her back, but in prayer, she doesn't know.

"Food will be here for you soon, Kate. I hope you'll enjoy it," he says, but she knows he doesn't mean it. He turns and walks towards the door and opens it, pausing for a moment to say to her, "We'll be meeting again soon, Kate Marsh."

When the door closes behind him, she closes her eyes, and clasps her hands even tighter behind her back, and she whispers only one thing.

 _Blessed are they who maintain justice, who constantly do what is right._  Psalm 106:3.

Max will come for her. She knows it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas Eve! So much thanks from both of us to Rai and Michelle who have created AMAZING artwork for this AU, we've been nonstop screaming about it.

When Chloe looks at Max across the lacquered wooden table sitting between them, it’s her eyes that makes Chloe look a little longer than normal. Blue, like her own, but they’re different. More lively. Brighter. There’s a real, solid sky blue color in them, sharp even against the white reflections from the light of the window. 

She’s beginning to see why Max is a photojournalist; there’s a plain, unashamed curiosity about her that makes Max glance around the plane cabin, with its tanned leather seats, warm golden lights, elegantly designed carpet, and polished wooden paneling.

But the way Max swallows, the way she shrinks into her leather chair, the way she clutches her messenger bag; Max isn’t used to this kind of luxury. Chloe can tell that much.

“You can relax, you know,” Chloe says, reaching forward and picking up a glass of water from off the table.

Max glances at her -- God, those eyes -- and purses her lips before looking away again. “I’m fine.”

“Right, sure you are,” Chloe says, taking a sip of her water. “Max--”

At the mention of her name, she stiffens. “ _Agent Price_ ,” she says curtly, meeting Chloe’s eye this time. “I said I’m fine.”

Chloe leans back into her seat, not breaking eye contact. For a moment, the two appraise each other -- pretty blue eyes still sharp and cutting in the light of the window next to them -- before Chloe sighs and straightens her tie. “We got off to a bad start, and I’m sorry.”

Max’s guarded expression shifts by miniscule details; the way her mouth parts just slightly, her eyes widening a little bit in surprise, her shoulders lowering just a touch. Chloe stares for a moment longer than needed, but then looks looks out the window, where the Atlantic Ocean rolls in waves far, far beneath them.

“But we have to work together on this,” Chloe continues, putting her glass down. “And this won’t work if we’re not getting along.”

When Max doesn’t answer, Chloe looks at her, and their eyes meet for a second again before Max looks away, brushing her bangs to the side before saying, “I know. I can do this.” 

Chloe’s opened her mouth to say something when Max looks her directly in the eyes and adds, “Can you?”

“Can _I_ do this?” Chloe asks, eyebrows raised. “What kind of question is that?”

“Can you?” Max repeats, picking up her own glass of water and bringing it to her lips. There’s a strange glint of challenge in her eyes now- it doesn’t seem adversarial, exactly, but discerning, curious as before.

“Of course I fucking can,” Chloe says, putting her hands behind her head and leaning back into her seat. “I’m the best agent the CIA has.”

“That’s hard to believe,” Max says under her breath, taking a sip of her water.

“I find it hard to believe sometimes too,” a disembodied voice says from the speakers, and Chloe bursts out laughing as Max jumps about a foot out of her seat.

“Eavesdropping, Dana?” Chloe asks.

A small TV screen rises up from the table, just in front of the window, and Dana smiles brightly at the two of them.

“Couldn’t resist. But anyway, hey to you too, Chloe. And Miss Caulfield,” Dana adds, giving a nod to Max, who’s breathing hard and clutching her chest, staring at Dana with a mixture of shock and incredulity. “I’m Agent Moneypenny, but since you’re with Chloe you can call me Dana. I’ll be your main point of contact for this mission.”

Max gives a small nod, glancing from Dana and back to Chloe. “Right. Hi.”

“Something change in the mission parameters, Dana?” Chloe asks.

Dana shakes her head, reaching for something off-screen; her hand pulls back several sheets of paper that she flicks through. “Not exactly a change, but the last minute accommodations I had to make for the addition of Miss Caulfield introduced some...issues.”

Max finds her voice just in time to say, “Issues?”

“Since we weren’t prepared for an additional...person, there was some difficulty securing lodgings for you and Agent Price,” Dana says, putting her sheets of paper on the table before looking at the two of them. “Normally, we try to put agents in their own separate rooms.”

Chloe sees where this is going, and can’t really help the smirk that comes curling up her cheeks. “Oh, yeah?”

Max’s response, predictably, is the exact opposite. “Oh no,” she whispers.

“You requested a room in the same hotel that Miss Marsh was supposedly in before she was abducted,” Dana continues, ignoring the both of them. “The only room available was the honeymoon suite, so you’ll both need to pull together a married couple act if you’re going to get in.”

Max barely has time to get out an indignant “ _What_ \--” before Chloe leans across the table from her, chin balanced on her hand as she smirks back at Max. “Looks like we’re married, babe.”

Dana loudly interrupts, “ _Anyway_ , you’ll need to grab rings before you check in to make it convincing.” She pauses for a second, reaching a hand up to her ear before focusing back on the two of them. “Also, R wants you both to keep up the married charade for the duration of the mission. It’ll help keep the two of you discreet, which is a good thing, since you’re a civilian, Miss Caulfield.”

“What does that have-”

“It means,” Chloe says, “we can avoid getting caught in hails of gunfire everywhere we go. We’ll stealth this mission, it’ll be safer that way. Having a cover will let us avoid the henchmen, if or when they find us.”

Max glares from Dana to Chloe, opening and closing her mouth several times, but in the end she just crosses her arms and gives an irritable huff. “Okay, fine. But how do we pay-”

“We’ll put it on my card. The agency will pay,” Chloe says, while Dana gives an affirmative nod. “Anything else you need to tell us, Dana?”

Dana shuffles through her papers again. “At the moment, no. Good luck on the mission, Chloe, Miss Caulfield.” She nods to each in turn before the TV blacks out.

Chloe’s barely opened her mouth to say anything before Max just shuts her eyes tight and draws her knees up to her chest. “Don’t, Agent Price. Just don’t.”

So Chloe doesn’t.

\---

It’s later on in the flight and it’s dark over the sea beneath them, black water meeting a darker sky at the horizon, speckles of stars in the distance.

Chloe’s finishing up a scathing shot of Siamese vodka, refusing to grimace when the burn shoots down her chest. It keeps her awake, anyway, keeps away the numbness. She places the shot glass on the table, glancing across her to where Max lies asleep on the reclined leather seat, curled up in a small ball underneath a thin blanket.

She stares a moment, taking in Max’s unguarded expression. Even now though, Chloe can see how tight her shoulders are, how her hands are closed into loose fists, how there’s a line of worry across her forehead. The girl never rests, does she?

Then again, it’s better not to be hypocritical. It’s not like Chloe ever does, either.

She stands up and takes off her suit jacket, taking a step around the table to gently place it over Max, before she reaches toward the switch on the wall and dims the lights to near darkness. Then she silently makes her way into the next cabin, quietly sliding the curtain across before turning and sitting down at a table and brightening the lamp on the wall, lighting up Max’s notes scattered across the table.

The two of them had gone over Max’s research thoroughly, but Chloe has nothing better to do until the flight’s over. She’s not one for sleeping, anyway.

She picks up the photos of Kate Marsh and the other girls who were kidnapped, and lines them up. None had powerful parents or relatives of any standing, nor had the kidnapped girls’ families gotten any contact from the kidnappers. So the enemy didn’t care for money or favors.

Which means the enemy has power, or relation to power, in some shape, way, or form.

She hadn’t told Max this, but R’s decision for them to keep a low cover had been a correct one. More likely than not, the traffickers would have hired help to ensure not only smooth kidnappings, but secure kidnappings and facilities as well. Telling Max that they’d be most likely be running into violence was not on Chloe’s list of presumably good ideas.

Chloe pulls a map of Europe closer to herself, glances at Max’s scribbles, where she’d circled Venice and then drawn arrows and question marks to other cities nearby, like Rome, Monaco, Vienna, Geneva, Florence, and others.

Trafficking ring. Has to extend across Europe. Chloe’s not surprised that one end of it is in Venice -- prime tourist spot, prime pickings for traffickers to take unwary girls looking for an adventure. But that still leaves a number of other famous cities throughout Europe. She and Max would have to find a way to narrow down which cities the ring was operating in, make someone talk. Or find a trail that leads them to where they need to go.

Chloe leans forward in her chair, reaching up and adjusting the strap of her shoulder holster. One reason she’d kept her jacket on was the look on Max’s face when she’d subtly flashed her gun back in the bar. That brief glimpse of fear was familiar enough.

Reaching down and taking out her gun, Chloe holds it in her hand, the grip familiar against her palm. She’d unloaded it, for the sake of the flight, and she wonders for a moment whether Max knew how to use firearms. Later on, she’ll need to make sure Max can defend herself in a fight…

Max. The girl seems soft, looks soft, like those golden rays of morning sunlight peeking up over the horizon. Still, there’s something about her that’s sharp as the sun too, as the shadows cast by a burning afternoon sun.

Chloe slides the gun back into her shoulder holster, holding her fist up to her mouth as she watches dawn rise over the ocean -- in the distance she can see land, can see Europe sprawling across the earth.

\---

Max wakes up sitting, which always throws out her back, but when she goes to stretch out the ache, wincing slightly, there’s an unexpected slithering sound as fabric falls out of her lap.

Anything unexpected is enough to snap her entirely awake, and she goes grabbing for the blanket, lifting it up and inspecting it carefully. Tangled up against the stringy threads of the thin airplane blanket is a suit jacket, wrinkled and warm. 

Only after she’s stared at it for a good thirty seconds does she realize it must be Agent Price’s, and a good minute and a half of overanalyzing, checking the pockets and tags for clues or threats, before she figures it was most likely put over her to keep her warm.

That revelation keeps her in the seat for another five minutes.

Jesus. Does this make her the asshole out of the two of them, then?

She’s clenching hand-shaped wrinkles into Agent Price’s jacket before she snaps back into herself. This isn’t a competition about who’s going to treat who better. This isn’t about Agent Price, or Max. This is about Kate.

Max is a professional, and she’s determined, and she’s not scared, and she and Agent Price are going to work together and they’re going to get Kate back. 

Where is Agent Price, anyway?

Sliding slowly onto her feet, she keeps the jacket clutched tight to her chest, walking in light, cautious steps towards the curtain at the end of the cabin. She just brushes against the curtain, peeking into the slight ripple it leaves behind, and when she sees a flash of Agent Price’s blue hair, discernible movement, she feels secure enough in pulling it back.

Agent Price looks up at her as soon as she steps forward, up from where Max’s files lay scattered across the tray in front of her. “Hey,” she says, and her voice is light, colloquial. “How’d you sleep?”

“Fine,” Max says automatically, “you?”

“All right,” Agent Price says vaguely, and she’s still looking at Max. There’s something about her gaze that makes Max feel unsettled; openly flirtatious, openly unserious, but with something harder behind her eyes that’s too far away to reach. “We’ll be landing in Venice soon. It’s mid-afternoon there, you’re going to be jetlagged.” 

Max just nods, and it’s only when Agent Price’s gaze flicks from Max’s eyes to her hands that she realizes she’s still clutching the jacket. “Oh! Um-” Hurriedly, she reaches out with it one-handed. “Here.”

Agent Price is halfway through taking it out of Max’s hands before she remembers to say, “Thank you.”

That snaps her gaze back up onto Max again, and for a second there’s something undefinable and unfamiliar in her eyes, before the smile Max has pointedly decided she dislikes curls up her face again. “You’re welcome. I’ve been told it gets pretty cold on this plane.”

Max nearly, nearly asks _told by who_ , but actually she doesn’t care who told Agent Price they were getting cold on Agent Price’s private jet.

So she just says “right,” and hugs her empty arms back to her chest.

\---

It isn’t the golden hour when they land in Venice, like Max was maybe hoping for, but it’s still gorgeous. She knew it would be. 

Once they get into the heart of the city, she’s going to be one hundred percent focused on this mission and on Kate and on keeping Agent Price in line and on task, but there is a way the sun is hitting the landscape of Italy that she just can’t deny. It’s not in her nature.

They’re only halfway off of the landing stretch, Agent Price walking at a brisk clip ahead of Max, and Max is trying to stay on task, she is, but there’s a clear shot of mountains and green just over her shoulder and if she doesn’t get it now, she’s going to lose it forever.

So before she can stop herself, she’s saying, “Agent Price, wait,” and Agent Price is turning around, brow creased and mouth open before Max dumps her carryon bag into her arms, retrieving her camera out of it hurriedly. “Hold this, please,” she says, without looking up, and hurries back down the landing stretch, just a little, crouches down slightly and angles the camera up.

The sun. The mountains. Blue sky. Some tiny birds, singing unhindered.

There is still beauty in the world. 

The shot comes out nice, bright and focused, and she’s still gazing at it when she jogs back to Agent Price, taking her bag back and stuffing her camera and the photo back inside. “Sorry, I just- sometimes I just see a shot, and I have to- what?”

Because when she looks up again, still a little more distracted than she ought to be, Agent Price is just looking at her. Not with a smirk, like she had on the plane, or even with impatience, like she had in the bar. She’s just looking, lips parted just barely, and there’s a light that seems a lot like curiosity in her eyes.

It’s very bare. It makes Max fidgety, and with nothing else to do with her hands she tucks some hair behind her ear. “What is it?”

The movement seems to spark Agent Price back into motion, and she just shakes her head, turns away from Max again. “Nothing,” she says shortly. “You’re fine.”

And then they’re on their way again.

\---

“Okay, look,” Chloe says, reaching out and brushing Max’s arm, just light enough for her to feel it. Max turns to face her with a look that’s intent and irritated at the same time, but Chloe continues, “We’ll have to act like a couple when we get the rings, so you’ll need to hold my hand.”

“I know how a couple acts,” Max says, but she takes a moment for a deep breath before tentatively reaching out and holding onto Chloe’s hand. Her touch is light and gentle, and Chloe keeps her grip loose as the two walk down a sunny sidewalk full of ambling tourists.

As the two of them wade through the crowds, Chloe feels Max hold onto her hand just a little tighter. The afternoon sun marks noon, primetime for tourists to come flocking to Venice’s famous canals and landmarks.

“Also, as much as I know you love to call me Agent Price, Chloe’s my name,” Chloe says, spotting the jewelry store up ahead. 

“I know, Chloe,” Max says, and Chloe glances back to see Max giving her a small, tight smile. “I told you. I can do this.”

Chloe rolls her eyes before opening the door for the both of them. “Got it, supergirl.”

An attendant comes to them pretty quickly, an old woman with graying hair that looks at them critically over her horn-rimmed glasses. “How may I help you both today?”

“Hi, my fiancee and I are looking to buy a pair of rings.” Chloe flashes her most suave grin, which only gets the attendant to raise her eyebrows before glancing between Max to Chloe and back again. Max steps a little closer to Chloe, firmly gripping onto Chloe’s hand.

“Lovely. I am Martha,” the attendant says, gesturing for them to follow her as she bustles over to a display case in the corner of the room. “Getting married, yes?” she asks, adjusting her glasses.

It’s Max who answers this time, voice tinged with a happiness that’s at least believable. “Yes, I absolutely can’t wait.”

“Mhm, of course,” Martha repeats, reaching over to a control board on the wall and adjusting the intensity and direction of the lights in the display case. She impatiently waves a hand at the two of them. “Look, look! Rings of all kind, of all beauties.”

Chloe and Max lean over and gaze inside the display case, and Chloe hears Max whisper, “Holy shit.”

Glancing around furtively and squeezing Max’s hand, Chloe whispers back, “What?”

“These are really expensive,” Max says, eyes wide as she looks at the variety of diamonds sparkling on gold and silver bands. “Are you sure your -- I mean, you --"

“Babe, I’d do anything for you,” Chloe says, “Pick whatever rings you want.”

“Yes, yes, pick whatever you want,” Martha chimes in, pointing at a pair of rings that makes Chloe give an amused huff when Max balks at the price tag. “All of the finest quality, only have the best rings in my establishment.”

Chloe leans in closer to Max, her nose just brushing the edges of the shell of Max’s ear as she whispers, “The faster you choose a pair, the faster we can get out of here.”

Max leans away and shoots Chloe a bright smile. “Sweetheart, what do you like?”

Caught off-guard, Chloe fumbles an answer. “I -- I don’t know, I’ve never done this before.” Her voice ends up coming out more honest than she’d meant, and Max’s expression shifts, just slightly, into something soft and surprised.

“You’ve...I mean, right, yeah, this is our first time,” Max says, and she turns to look at Martha, who’s looking expectantly at the both of them, hands clasped in front of her. “Sorry, this is our first time getting married --”

“Of course, of course, lovely,” Martha says, reaching into the display case and pulling out several pairs of rings in rapid succession, placing them all in front of them. “Here, these are popular amongst first timers. Most possess a simple elegance, a refined beauty, so to speak.”

“My fiancee is the greatest beauty in the world,” Chloe says, and Max just squeezes her hand hard and rolls her eyes. 

“Flatterer. Anyway…”

The two of them spend a half hour with Martha debating over several of the rings -- Max is adamant about not blowing out the CIA’s yearly budget, so they end up going for a pair of modest rings that are a smooth band, with a small twist around the diamond.

When they’re trying on the rings for size, Chloe makes sure to hold Max’s hand as gently as she can, trying to keep their physical touch minimal as she slides the ring onto Max’s finger. Max’s cold exterior is enough for Chloe to understand where her boundaries lie -- and it’s been made clear that crossing them isn’t a great idea.

“How’s that feel?” Chloe says softly.

She glances up when Max doesn’t answer, only sees Max staring back at her with her mouth slightly parted. “Max?”

“Um, yeah, it’s fine,” Max says, blinking and gently taking her hand away. “We should try yours.”

Max takes a step closer to Chloe, thanking Martha for holding out Chloe’s ring, and Chloe has to fight back the smile on her lips by biting down on the corner of her mouth when she sees Max hyper-focused on sliding the ring onto her finger, sees the slight flush that comes across her cheeks.

When the sale’s done and done, the rings placed neatly inside a tiny velvet box that’s now nestled inside Max’s bag, it’s Martha that reaches out and firmly grasps Chloe’s arm as Max asks another attendant for directions to their hotel.

“You, her, you’ve been together for long time?” Martha asks, and Chloe’s mind immediately goes into hyperdrive, her free hand reaching inside her jacket and just brushing the handle of her gun.

“For a while, why?” Chloe asks, keeping a smile on her face.

Martha gives a short laugh and shakes her head. “You talk, or argue, like old married couple. But the way you look at each other. It is like,” Martha seems to struggle for the English translation of it for a moment, “It is like newfound lovers.”

Chloe relaxes, and gently turns, and Martha lets go of her. She doesn’t know whether to laugh or shake her head, so she just does a combination of both. “We’re...Thank you. _Grazie_.”

Martha simply nods, adjusting her glasses on her face with a smile before impatiently waving a hand at Max. “Go, go. Be together.”

“Right,” Chloe says, heading towards Max.

\---

When they’re standing at the front counter of their hotel, prepared to check-in, it’s Chloe who speaks first. “Hi,” she says, holding up her and Max’s intertwined hands, making sure Max’s ring is visible. “Reservation for Mrs. and Mrs. Bond.”

“Ah, yes,” the concierge says, typing away on her computer. “The honeymoon suite, correct?”

“Right you are,” Chloe says, reaching her hand out for the keys -- but Max’s hand is already there, taking the keys and sliding them into her pocket.

“Thank you,” Max says, tugging Chloe towards the elevator, her free hand rolling her suitcase along with her.

The moment the elevator doors close, Max immediately lets go of Chloe’s hand, and Chloe just crosses her arms and leans into a corner.

“So...you’ve never done this before?” Max asks in the silence.

“Never done what?” Chloe asks, grabbing her suitcase and rolling it out into the hallway when they reach their floor.

“This,” Max says, holding up her left hand, where the ring glistens in the soft glow of the lamps lining the walls.

Chloe doesn’t say anything, just keeps moving down the hallway, with Max following close behind. She pauses to let Max unlock the door before she finally says, “My job isn’t exactly that attractive to most people. In the long term, anyway. Your abode awaits, Mrs. Bond.”

Chloe heads inside and flicks on the light to reveal a large, spacious room, where a king size bed nestles against the middle of the wall to their left, its surface adorned with pure white pillows and thick blankets. A lacquered, wooden dresser extends along the right wall, where an open door leads into a large bathroom, complete with a jacuzzi. The wall opposite them, aside from gorgeous paintings of the Venetian landscape, has a set of sliding doors set in the middle, allowing them a view of Venice in its entirety. A small table and two armchairs fit in the corner to their far right.

Walking further in and using her foot to slide her suitcase into a corner and stuffing her hands into her pockets, Chloe grins and says, “So, one bed, babe--” before turning around and getting hit in the face with a pillow, with a blanket tossed towards her a beat later.

“You’re taking the ground,” Max says pointedly when Chloe gathers the pillow and blanket in her arms.

Tossing the blanket and pillow on the ground next to the bed, Chloe just holds her hands up in surrender. “Got it, got it, right, whatever you say, Max.”

“Are we going to go check out Kate’s room tonight?” Max asks as she places her suitcase near a wall close to the bed, opening it and putting all her notes onto a table nearby.

“No, not tonight,” Chloe says, heading over to the sliding glass door that leads to a small balcony. She leans against the doorframe, staring out at the sea that laps at Venice’s buildings and docks. Night’s settling in across the city, but street lamps and the fronts of stores still sport bright lights that illuminate the old bricks and walls that make Venice so famous. “Tourists will be returning from their long day of doing touristy shit. Better to go in the morning or afternoon, when everyone’s gone.”

Chloe looks behind her to see that Max is biting down on the corner of her lip, looking hesitant; Chloe adds, “I know you want to find your friend as fast as possible but we need to stay low, Max.”

Max stares at her for a long moment before sighing and picking up some clothes from her suitcase. “All right. Fine. Agent Price,” she adds. Then, after another second of hesitation, “I’m gonna go change.” She walks into the bathroom and closes the door, and Chloe can audibly hear the lock turn.

Chloe moves towards the table, glancing down at Max’s notes before finding her eyes drawn to the shadows of Max shifting from underneath the door to the bathroom. Of course Max is fired up and ready to go, even after a long day of traveling. At least the two of them are on civil terms for now.

Shrugging off her suit jacket and unstrapping her shoulder holster, Chloe carefully hangs them both on a chair next to the table before turning around and sliding open the door to the balcony. The cool air’s refreshing, and she can taste the salt from the Mediterranean drift onto her lips.

She pulls a cigarette out from her pocket and lights it, the brief flare of orange and yellow from the lighter heating her face for a second before she caps it again, then takes a drag, breathing out gray and silver.

“Smoking’s bad for you, you know,” Max says, and Chloe turns to see Max leaning against the door frame, wearing silver silk pajamas.

Chloe meets her eye and then takes another drag. When she breathes out, she says, “Yeah, I know. Thanks the heads up, Mrs. Bond.”

At that, Max frowns, brow furrowed, arms crossed over her chest. “I’m just saying,” she mutters.

Chloe just chuckles, pressing the cigarette between her teeth again. “Out of all the things I do that aren’t good for me, I’m the least worried about smoking.”

That eases something in Max’s expression, in her forehead and her mouth, but she shakes her head, quickly, before Chloe can really tell what she’s thinking. Her hand comes back to fit against the doorframe to the balcony, and Chloe thinks that might be the end of it, but then she looks Chloe in the eye and says, “Thank you, by the way.”

Chloe immediately lowers the cigarette again and stares, wide-eyed at Max’s serious expression. “For what?”

“For letting me come with you.”

Chloe gives an amused huff of laughter. “You didn’t give us much choice.”

“You could’ve arrested me for obstruction of justice,” Max says, and even in the dim light of the lamps by the bed and the lightposts speckling the street, Chloe can still see how clear Max’s eyes are.

She swallows. “Waste of time. Besides, a pretty face like yours doesn’t belong behind bars,” she says. To stay true to form, she follows it with a wink, and Max throws her hands up in the air in exasperation.

“You’re the worst,” Max says, shaking her head, but there’s a smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth.

“Thanks. I try,” Chloe says. “Anyway, you should get some rest. We’ll check out Kate’s place in the morning and if we figure out a clue, we’ll follow it.”

Max raises her eyebrows and looks at Chloe’s white button-up, tie, and slacks. “Aren’t you going to sleep?”

Chloe shrugs, taking another drag. “Later. Get some rest, Max.” Before Max can say anything else, Chloe slides shut the glass door, and from the corner of her eye, she sees Max pause for a moment before turning and walking towards the bed.

She snuffs out the end of her cigarette against the balcony railing, closing her eyes and letting the cool sea breeze rustle past her.


	6. Chapter 6

Sunlight is spilling pure gold over the entire bedroom when Max wakes up, and the first thing she does is go reaching blind for her camera before remembering she’s in Venice, and there’s no bedside table.

Still, when she does get up, rolling her shoulders and stretching, her camera is resting neatly on top of her bag, not far off, and the sun is still hanging perfectly in the sky and Italy is so gorgeous, all bright colors and singing life, that she can’t stop herself from snagging it up, angling the lens towards the balcony window.

Only through the viewfinder does she see Agent Price for the first time, on the balcony and shadowed against the sun. Her back is to Max, leaning against the rail, and there’s a cigarette dangling between her fingers and Max won’t be able to take the shot without her in it. 

There’s probably CIA regulation against it.

But even if there is, even if Agent Price is killing the ozone and herself with a pack a day, she does make for a pretty impressive silhouette. 

Agent Price turns around when the shutter goes off, but Max shoves the photo back into her bag before she comes back into the room, locking the slider behind her. There’s the same easy smile on her face as Max rises to her feet, combing her fingers through her hair hurriedly. “Enjoying the view?”

Max should start keeping a tally on how many lines Agent Price goes through a day. Maybe charge her a nickel each for them. “Good morning to you too,” she says, keeping her voice even and adjusting the waistband of her pajamas. “What time is it?”

“A little past nine,” Agent Price says, straightening her tie. She’s already fully dressed- actually, it barely looks like she got undressed. She’s in slacks and a button-up again, suit jacket tossed haphazardly over Max’s carryon, and she looks clean and combed and like she hasn’t slept at all. “I figure we get you something to eat, then we head to Kate Marsh’s room. We won’t have too much time- I ran checkups on this place last night, and if nothing goes wrong we should have about half an hour before housekeeping staff comes by and notices we’re there.”

The way she says so is clinical, nearly detached, but it sends a little thrill down Max’s spine all the same- they’re _doing things_ , this is an _investigation_. It’s serious, it’s real, they’re going to find Kate. 

“Okay,” she says, “okay,” and she doesn’t bounce on the balls of her feet because she’s a professional but she does meet Agent Price’s eyes again. “What do you need me to do?”

Agent Price looks her over, carefully. “Order breakfast, and get dressed,” she says. Max is halfway through a nod, halfway through reaching down to a pull a change of clothes out of her bag, when Agent Price gives her a second, lazier, more appreciative glance, and says, “Or, you know, don’t. We have time to kill.”

“Jesus Christ,” Max mutters, and cuffs Agent Price on the head with her camera on the way to the bathroom.

\---

“Remember,” Agent Price murmurs, her breath hot against Max’s neck as Max carefully unlocks their door, “we’re married, we’re engaging in small talk, and my name is Chloe.”

This should be the easiest part of the investigation, posing a part. Agent Price’s hand is tangling with hers as soon as she gets the door open, and she does her best to turn her instinct to stiffen into the reaction to relax. “I know, Chloe,” she says, and she’s barely good with small talk that’s actually genuine, trying to force a fake one is a million times worse. She decides to start with something true. “God, isn’t it so beautiful here?”

Kate’s room is the floor above theirs, two doors down. Agent Price- Chloe, Max repeats in her head, Chloe for now- says it’s smarter to take the stairs than the elevator. There’s a couple coming out of the room in front of him, and the woman in the doorway peeks at Chloe and smiles.

Chloe smiles back, then turns back to Max again. “It really is,” she says, and Max tries hard not to look with too much surprise at her shift into an easy expression, the undeniable comfort in the way she holds herself as opposed to just a moment ago. Max is supposed to know this face. “And God, I haven’t had waffles in forever.”

Even if that’s a lie, it’s a travesty of a lie. “What?” Max repeats, letting Chloe tug her along at a faster pace. “How long? God, I love waffles, I love the smell of waffles in the morning-”

They’re through the door to the stairwell, and as soon as the door swings shut Chloe turns back to look at her again, smirking. “Passionate display.”

“I was being serious,” Max says indignantly, letting go of Chloe’s hand as they start up the stairs, “it’s one of life’s simplest pleasures-”

There’s no one in the hallway on Kate’s floor, so Max doesn’t feel paranoid hurrying down the hall to Kate’s room, letting Agent Price linger behind her. The door is closed and taped off, locked when Max shakes the handle, and the hotel’s nice enough that the hallway carpet has been replaced but Max can still see a dent in the wood, small and sharp beneath the doorframe.

Kate was here. And then she was gone.

“It’s locked, isn’t it,” Agent Price says behind her, and Max nearly jumps, straightens back up again a little too fast. “Figures. This’ll cut down exploring hour by about a quarter. Stand back, Max.”

Max is still distracted by the dent in the floor, so when she turns and sees Agent Price leveling her gun at the lock, it’s a real effort to not react loudly. 

“Hey- _hey_!” she hisses, nearly grabbing for the gun then deciding better of it. “Put that away, Jesus!” When Agent Price just rolls her eyes, lifting the gun off its aim just slightly to turn and face Max and probably say something condescending, she hurries into an, “I can do this!”

That at least gets a raised eyebrow, and a lowered gun, and she’s not entirely _sure_ she can do this but she has to at least make an effort now. She looks pointedly at the gun until Agent Price huffs and shoves it back in its holster, then kneels down in front of the door, reaches into her bag, and withdraws a little bag full of hair ties and bobby pins. 

She pulls out two bobby pins, bends them slightly, and she’s finding a better balance on her haunches to begin working when Agent Price groans above her. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding.”

This is going to look really stupid if it doesn’t work, but it’s going to work. “These locks are old,” she says, “and I have experience. Just give me a second.”

The pins fit into the lock, and she only has to the bend them just a little more to hit the correct angle. There’s a click, and it’s the wrong kind of click but it’s also the kind that tells Max she can actually do this if she just focuses.

It takes her a minute, instead of forty five seconds, which is her best time, because at the thirty-five second mark Agent Price says, sounding more amused than skeptical, “Where’d you learn to do this, then?”

“Mrs. Lowenstein’s class, fifth grade,” Max says, around the bobby pin she has between her teeth. “She forgot to feed her lizard, I was worried about it. Besides, you know, as a photojournalist, sometimes the shots you need take you behind closed doo- oh, there we go.”

There’s a final click, a satisfying one, and Max rises back onto her feet, folding her fist tight around the bobby pins. Hesitantly, she tries the doorknob again, and this time it slides open, with nothing harder than a tiny whining creak. 

She nearly sags in relief, but doesn’t because she’s supposed to look like she knows what she’d doing. Instead, she just turns back to Agent Price, who’s looking at her with that same expression she’d worn when Max took the picture on the landing strip yesterday. She’s not sure whether to call it stunned, impressed, disbelieving- it’s not quite any of those three, but it isn’t the smirk Max has gotten used to, and the softness of it takes whatever smugness may have been in her response. “Um. Shall we?”

That at least gets the smirk back on Agent Price’s, and she gestures Max ahead, into the open door. Max hurries in, but hesitates once she’s through the doorframe, reaching tentatively into her bag for a camera. “Can I take pictures?”

“Sure,” Agent Price says, stepping through the door behind her and pressing a pair of gloves into her hands. “But wear these, try not to touch anything too much. And keep your voice down. I’m going to run for fingerprints.”

“You said you’ve already received the forensic details from the Venetian police report,” Max says, a little dazed as she looks around, “and that the room hasn’t been touched.”

It certainly looks like it hasn’t been. The sheets are all mussed, the carpet scraped across the floor as though by dragging feet, a shattered glass on the countertop by the television and the lamp broken next to the bed. It makes Max’s stomach flip, just a little, and she swallows, and instead of saying anything she just reaches up with the camera.

It’s a digital one, familiar but not comfortable, too small. She tries her best not to let her hands shake as she takes a picture of the bed.

Agent Price is turned away, checking the doorknob, so she doesn’t see. “A lot of times the kidnappers come back,” she says, “to destroy evidence or whatever. I’m checking to see if there’s anything new.”

One of the drawers at the bedside table is slightly ajar. Max is heading over to it, tugging her gloves on with fumbling hands, when Agent Price says, idly, “So, beauty _and_ brains, huh, Max? You really are the whole package.”

Max opens the drawer a little more, drawing it forward by its edge instead of the handle. Her ring strikes the wood from beneath her glove, and she bites her lip. There’s nothing inside the drawer, and that doesn’t seem right somehow. “Can I ask you something?” she says. “Are you like this with everyone you work with?”

When Agent Price responds, her voice comes floating out of the bathroom, hushed but carrying all the same. “Why? Not feeling special?”

There’s definitely something missing from the bedside drawer. It takes Max a second to place it, but she does. “I’m not worried about me,” she says, and lowers herself carefully onto her knees, lifts the sheets to look beneath the bedframe. “Just about the trail of women you’ve left in your wake.”

The low chuckle Agent Price gives at that echoes against the walls. “You know, Max, some women- not you, obviously, but some women do think I’m attractive.”

Well, it’s not like Max is _blind_. “That’s not what I mean, I’m just thinking- you leave behind a lot of broken hearts?”

Agent Price comes out of the bathroom holding some kind of transparent paper, but she’s frowning at a gadget and Max is still on her knees so they’re not quite looking at each other. Still Max can see that smile on her face. “We only break what we want to break.”

Ugh. “Ugh!” Max says, then quickly lowers her voice again, gets onto her feet and crosses to the bureau, starts carefully searching its drawers. “God, you and the one liners, you’re awful with them.”

There’s nothing in the bureau drawers either. Max exhales, frustrated, and when she turns around to go look in the bathroom, Agent Price is closer than she was before.

She’s not in Max’s space, exactly, but she is closer and she’s looking at Max now, with eyes that seem dark but keep this interested sort of light in them, all the same. “Some people find the one liners charming,” she says, and it sounds like a challenge.

Max’s hands curl up on the edge of the bureau behind her, and even though Agent Price does have kind of nice eyes, now that she notices, she still manages a, “The same people that find you attractive?”

That actually makes Agent Price grin, not a smirk but a wide smile that spreads across her face, and it catches Max off guard a little bit, uncurls her fingers. “So cold,” she says, and she’s clearly attempting to sound insulted but too amused to make it convincing. “You wound me, Max.”

The fact that Agent Price’s eyes are nice isn’t going to get them anywhere. Max pushes off the bureau, pushes past her, heads instead for the bathroom this time. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just- and anyway-”

Agent Price just waves the words off, and now she’s watching Max carefully, curious. “What are you looking for?”

Max is going to ask how she knew she was looking for something, but then she remembers _secret agent_. She probably needs to drill that into her head the way she’s drilling in _Chloe, Chloe, Chloe_ , whenever they’re in public. “Um. In our room, there was a Bible, right? In the bedside drawer. It’s a staple, probably, but Kate wouldn’t use a hotel Bible, she brings her own already- but I just checked the drawer, and it isn’t there.”

Immediately, Agent Price’s gaze goes sharp. “You’re looking for the hotel Bible? Why?”

“I don’t like that it’s not there,” Max murmurs. She’s close to the door, so she has to keep her voice down. “Kate’s Bible was found with her possessions, and the hotel Bible not being here- it’s weird. She was here on a missionary trip, it would mean something to her, and if she did something to it then I need to-”

Agent Price takes a step towards Max, still with her brow furrowed, and the floorboard creaks under her feet.

They both look down.

Without even saying anything, Max is suddenly scrambling off the floorboard and Agent Price is kneeling down, shoving the carpet aside and reaching into one of her pockets to withdraw something that looks a lot like a file, but sleeker. She digs it into the side of the slat, shifting the wood aside with considerable easiness, then whistles.

“You’ve got good intuition, Max,” she says. “Looks like Kate Marsh might’ve left you a clue.”

And with one gloved hand, she pulls a slightly dented Bible up from underneath the floor, worse for wear but otherwise identical to the one Max had found back in their room’s bedside table.

This time she can’t quite contain her gasp, dropping down onto her knees and grabbing for the book, nearly losing her balance against the new hole in the floor. “Give that to me!”

Agent Price hands it over without much of a fight, frowning at Max as she rifles through the pages with shaking hands. “Looking for something in particular?”

“Matthew 11:28, it’s her favorite verse,” Max says distractedly, finding the New Testament and exhaling as she sees a hard crinkle in the pages, like they’ve been crushed in an effort to close the book. “If she were going to leave a message for me, I know she would’ve- oh my god.”

Because she’s right, because across the words “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest,” a hard, shaking black pen has ripped across the page in capital letters, pressing so tight into the page that there’s an imprint of the word left behind on the pages behind it. 

_**VIENNA** _

“Vienna?” Max repeats, frowning at the page. “Why-”

Taking the book from her, Agent Price looks down at the page as well. “This is Kate Marsh’s handwriting?” she says, looking back up at Max, and both her voice and her expression are serious, focused. 

Max swallows. “It’s shaky, but I think so.”

“On the audio message, Kate told you she could hear men talking outside,” Agent Price mutters, flipping through the next few pages carefully. “This might mean she knew where they were taking her ahead of time. It certainly seems like she left this clue, and for someone who would know her. It’s too personal to be a red herring.” Suddenly, she stops flipping through the pages. “Max, do you know anyone named Nathan? Someone close to Kate, maybe?”

It takes Max a second to zone back in from where her brain is just working in a loop of oh, god, Kate. “Um. No, I don’t. I don’t think Kate does either, why?”

Without answering, Agent Price just holds the Bible up again, to a new page, where Kate’s scrawling, shaking hand has scrawled _**NATHAN??**_ in a dying-ink, scratchy trace.

Nathan. “I don’t know anyone named Nathan,” Max says again, helplessly.

Agent Price just nods, once, then snaps the book shut, hands it over to Max again as they rise to their feet. “All right. Let’s get out of here.”

Dubious, Max shoves the Bible into her bag, watches Agent Price kick the floorboard back into place. “Already?”

“We’re not going to find a clue bigger than that,” Agent Price says simply, closing the drawers Max had opening and swinging the bathroom door shut. “It’s probably the only thing forensics didn’t already pick up. I’ll send the new information back to headquarters, see if they can give us any new leads, and you and I will probably set course to Vienna as soon as they get back to us.”

She’s heading towards the door again, and Max hurries after her even though she’s still a little unsure of this whole mood shift. “Just like that?”

Agent Price nods, peering through the eyehole then silently clicking the door open. “Just like that,” she affirms, gesturing Max out quietly and lowering her voice to a whisper. “We don’t have a lot of time to waste, Max. But don’t look at me like that, we’re going to do this right.”

Max lowers her own voice as well, waiting for Agent Price- Chloe again now- to fall in step with her. “I know we don’t, I’m just- I don’t know, it seems fast to me, but I’ve never done this before.”

Chloe glances at her, appraisingly, and Max just looks back, unsure of how to read her expression. Then she says, “Max, I _have_ done this before. It’ll all work-”

Suddenly, her expression closes off, and she snatches Max’s hand without stopping her pace. Max glances down at their entwined hands, surprised. “Uh-”

Then Chloe’s leaning in, lips brushing against Max’s ear, still without stopping her pace. “We’re being followed,” she mutters, and Max has to stamp down hard on the immediate instinct to look behind them. “Three men, suits. Just act in love with me for five seconds so I can take them out.”

Is she going to take down three men in this hallway? This hallway is _tiny_. And Max is _right here_. 

Without turning her head, she whispers, “Could we lose them?”

She can feel Chloe’s grin against her ear, but she’s ninety percent sure it’s for their tail’s benefit rather than hers. “Lose them where, sweetheart?”

Max has done enough time hiding in plain sight to know where the outs are. It’s risky, but she thinks the way things are right now, they might have a pretty good out. “Whisper something in my ear again,” she murmurs.

There’s a split second of hesitation, and she doesn’t know if Chloe already knows what she’s planning when she whispers, “Like what?”

That’s probably enough. Quickly but not too quickly, Max reaches out with her right hand, winds it once around Chloe’s tie, and drags her into the nearest doorframe, pulls her down a couple inches, rises on her toes just slightly, makes her eyes go half lidded. She presses one hand flat against the wall behind her, keeps the other tight around Chloe’s tie, and brings their faces as close as she can without actually kissing her. 

Her eyes are mostly closed, but she keeps enough peripheral vision just to see the three men walk past. The one closest to her and Chloe is looking at them, but his expression shifts quickly from one of suspicion to mild disgust.

They walk on. After a second, there’s the sound of the staircase door opening and then swinging closed.

Max closes her eyes all the way, exhales, then opens them again to see Chloe. “Are they gone?”

Chloe’s face is still very close. Her eyelids are low, and she glances between Max’s eyes and her lips and the hand wrapped around her tie, and once again her eyes are very dark. “Quick thinking,” she breathes, “you’re full of surprises,” and when Max widens her eyes at her, she leans a little to the left to peer beyond her. “Yeah, they’re gone.”

So Max lets go off her tie, leans more bodily against the wall, and sighs in relief. “Oh, thank god. That was so stressful.”

But when she opens her eyes again, Chloe’s still right there, still gazing down at her, a little intrigued. One of her hands had braced next to Max’s head when Max had pulled her in, and she hasn’t moved it yet. “So are you going to leave me hanging or what?”

Her eyes are very pretty, but. Max has never been the love them and leave them type. 

“Sorry,” she says, and ducks out from under Agent Price’s arm. “I’m not one of your girls.”

They don’t have to banter on their way down the stairs, because there’s no one there, and when Agent Price takes her hand as they get back on their floor, the grip between them is very loose.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to thegagetfish and mostlymilkwood for beta'ing!

It's going to take Max a while to get used to this whole private jet thing. And it doesn't help when Agent Price goes, "it's just a plane, Max," because it is _not_ just a plane, it is a private jet and it is very very different from riding coach.

The sun is still up when they arrive in Vienna, but it's not as picturesque as it had been back in Venice. Max clutches her bag's strap tight, and her ring digs painfully into her finger.

That's also something that's going to take a while to get used to. Agent Price is walking ahead with purpose again, so Max catches up to her, holds her ringed hand aloft to draw her attention. "Um, what are we going to do about-"

Luckily, Agent Price seems to catch her drift before Max has to say it. "Yeah, we're staying married for now, Dana booked us a single room again. It's safer for you, you know, since you're a civilian."

It's true, technically, but if Max gets called a civilian one more time she's going to scream. "Okay, but. You're taking the floor again if there's only one bed."

Agent Price rolls her eyes, but she doesn't protest, and it almost looks like she's biting down a grin. "Whatever you say, princess. Only live to serve."

They come onto an open street, bustling and lively, and Max grabs Agent Price's hand, trying hard not to react first when their rings clink together and then when Agent Price glances over at her. "So what are we going to do?"

"Well, I sent what we found back to headquarters," Agent Price says, eyes flitting around the sidewalks and street as she tugs Max across it. "But as of right now, it's too vague to come up with anything definitive. Our quartermaster is going to start pulling surveillance footage from here in Vienna, and Dana's started putting in scans for the name Nathan, but it'll probably be a couple of hours before they get back to us. In the meantime, you and I are going to be manually checking hotels."

Max has to nearly jog to keep up with the clip of Agent Price's pace, but the grip between them is tighter than before, and it reminds Max of the men back in Venice, dark-eyed and dark-suited, and makes her anxious. "How?"

"We'll go in together," Agent Price says, and drags her around a sharp right, into the canopied archway of what must be Hotel Check Number One. "You go to the desk and ask if anyone has seen this girl, show them your picture of Kate, tell them you've been looking for her all day because you don't know what hotel the two of you were supposed to meet up in. Most won't know, some might lie, some might tell you it's against policy to say, whatever. I'll disappear, scan their roster in the meantime, and if nothing checks out we move on to the next place. Got it?"

Actually, yes. Max has done jobs like this before, she's bent the truth like this before. She's having an easier time with this mission than she thought she would. "Got it. This'll be easy."

Agent Price- _Chloe, Chloe, Chloe_ \- opens the glass-sheened door for her, and grins. "I bet," she says. "I'm sure you've got that wide-eyed tourist look down pat." In a normal, show voice, she calls out, "Gotta hit the bathroom, babe," then she lets go off Max's hand, and presses her face close, close, nose brushing against Max's temple in the semblance of a kiss. "Good luck."

As soon as she takes a step away, Max is hurrying towards the desk, fishing in her pocket for the picture of Kate.

Very briefly, she wonders why Chloe didn't just kiss her for real. It's been made evident that she _wants_ to. Then Max reminds herself that it wouldn't be strictly professional if she did, and she doesn't care anyway, if Max wanted to kiss her she would've done it back in Venice, and she pushes the thought out of her mind.

* * *

They've gone through five hotels in the same stretch of city, with no results and Max getting no better at not shivering when Agent Price whispers in her ear, when Max decides that if they're mostly wasting their time anyway she should at least have the freedom to look around the Imperial City, at least a little.

The way the shops line the streets is like cake boxes, square and neat and pastel, and Max thinks she must make a convincing tourist because she feels like one, awed and uncontrolled. "Wow," she breathes, lifting her camera up to her eyes again, trying to take in as much of the avenue as she can. "It's so pretty here."

Agent Price just chuckles, her hands in her pockets. Her eyes have been roving up and down the streets too, but it's not with the same wonder Max knows is probably spread too obviously across her own face. She's looking for clues, for threats. "You were saying the exact same thing back in Venice."

"It was beautiful there too," Max says wistfully, honing in on a streetlamp this time, the way it buzzes the street corner below it in and out of shadow. "Oh, but you told me you'd been there before, right? Have you ever been here?"

That only earns her a shrug. "Probably. They start blending together after a while."

"I can't believe that," Max murmurs, holding up the two photos in each hand and marveling at the lighting difference from just two ends of the same street. "I've never been anywhere that looks like this, how does it just start blending-"

She glances up to see Agent Price looking at her the way that has caught Max off guard twice now, softer than usual, something curious in her eyes. She puts her camera back into her bag, then fidgets with nothing in her hands, tucks some hair behind her ear. "What? Oh, are we at the next one?"

"No," Agent Price says, a little distantly, then, "oh, well, yes, but that's not- you're really, seriously genuine about the whole beauty-of-the-world thing, aren't you Max?"

God. Max probably sounds like a twelve-year-old at Disneyland to her, she probably needs to reign it in a little. "Well, um. I guess to a woman of the world like you it's all old hat, but-"

Immediately, Agent Price waves a hand in complacence, eyes widening just a little. "No, no, that's not what I meant. I just-" And she pauses, then looks at Max again, and this time she smiles, just a little. "It's nice. It's cute."

Oh. "Um-"

"Anyway, here we are," Agent Price says, and ushers Max forward, towards shiny lobby doors. "After you, sweetheart."

So Max goes on ahead, and only after she's already through the doors does she realize she should probably stop clutching her bag strap so tightly.

This needs to stop _getting_ to her.

* * *

They're on hotel number nine, and the woman at the desk is shaking her head at the picture of Kate again. Max just nods, sighs, and is about to slide it back into her pocket when a second, lower voice says, "May I see?"

Immediately Max stiffens, eyes skittering around for Chloe, and when she's nowhere to be found, she turns around, slow, making sure the woman from the desk is still paying attention. There's a man behind her, maybe just a little older, wearing a green jacket and a name pin that matches the woman's, and smiles down at Max benevolently. Tentative, Max shows him the picture of Kate, more nervous than hopeful.

He frowns down at it, then smiles up at Max's face again, apologetic. "Sorry to say I haven't seen her. But perhaps I could interest you in our bar? You look like you've spent a long day on your feet, pretty miss."

Agent Price still hasn't reappeared. "Um, no, thank you, I'm actually just-"

"I would be happy to accompany you," the man says, leaning a little too far into her space. Max has to tilt back on her knees to keep meeting his eyes. "I get off for break in five minutes, perhaps we could-"

"Hey, sweetheart," says a voice from her left, and Max nearly jumps when a hand goes snaking around her waist. At least she knows it's Agent Price, is able to breathe a sigh of relief before she even looks up to see her gazing evenly between Max and the hotel worker. "Any luck?"

Trying for casualty, Max leans into her side a little more, bites her lip and shakes her head. "Unfortunately, no."

"Damn," Chloe says, and Max suspects it's more for the man's benefit than Max's, "guess we should be moving along, then," and her arm comes more securely around Max. She looks up to the man, who looks a little baffled, and smiles sweetly. "Excuse us, my wife and I really must get going."

If he says anything, Max misses it, is distracted by the way Agent Price carefully but firmly guides her out the lobby door again.

As soon as they're outside of the view of the hotel's glass doors, Max sighs in relief, shoving Kate's picture back in her bag. "Thank you," she says, then, "was he suspicious?"

"Not really," Agent Price says lightly, letting go of Max's waist. "Just dense. It's not like you're not wearing a rock, he should've known you're taken."

And she tangles Max's hand with hers again, and pulls her forward in another direction.

"How white knight of you," Max says, because if she says it sarcastically maybe she'll stop thinking it genuinely.

* * *

Hotel number sixteen doesn't have any information on Kate, but it does have a huge, flourishing garden.

"Oh my god," Max murmurs, stopping in her tracks and falling behind Agent Price by a couple of steps at once. "Wait, wait, hang on- can we just-"

The look Agent Price shoots at her over her shoulder is confused at first, but then shifts into something a little more fond when she sees the expression on Max's face. She turns all the way around, crossing her arms across her chest, parking herself in place. "We can probably take a minute or two. If that's what you're asking."

Max grins at her, then closes her eyes, breathes in deep. The air is so fresh, clean and flowery and pure, and it just makes all the colors seem brighter when she opens her eyes again. She reaches for her camera, takes a few steps back, tries to capture the whole picture before she goes searching for the little things.

The sky is so blue.

It's mostly tulips, the garden, in bright primary colors that stand bold against everything else, but there are smaller, less decadent flowers spread out amongst them too, like hidden treasures. Max used to be good with flowers, tries to assign a name to every one she finds. Kneeling in front of a clump of chrysanthemums and absentminded, she says, "What's your favorite kind of flower, Chloe?"

There's a huff, above her and a little ways away. "Is that something people have?"

"Not everyone," Max murmurs, shifting to the left on her calves and trying to contain her gasp of delight at what she finds there. "Just, um, curious if you had one. Since we're here."

She's drawing some flowers out from their clump, gentle, between her fingers, when Chloe calls back, "Can I assume you have one, then?"

Max just smiles, serene, and takes the photo with her hand still in the shot, tangled in blue. "Yeah. I just found some, actually. Forget me nots."

There's the soft sound of dirt under shoes, and then Chloe's standing over her, looking down curiously. "Those are your favorite?"

"Mmhm," Max says, withdrawing her hand from between the rubbery stems and leaning back on her haunches, crossing her arms over her knees. "Always have been."

"Why?"

That's actually a good question, and Max hesitates, because the answer's really not that deep. "Um," she says, then just decides to go for honesty. "I don't know, I always just really liked them. They're so delicate, you know, and small, and they have such a weird but pretty name for a flower, and- oh, and they're my favorite color."

She's deciding against pulling one or two out of the ground to press in her journal, even though she'd really like to, when Chloe suddenly says, "That's your favorite color?"

There's something strange in her voice, so Max finally looks up, is halfway through saying, "yeah, they-" before she sees Chloe tugging on a lock of her own hair, almost distractedly.

Her forget-me-not blue hair.

Fuck. "Oh! Um-" God, if she tries to backtrack out of saying so now she's going to look suspicious, and superficial, but she really didn't _mean_ it like that- "I just-"

But Chloe's eyes focus back in almost immediately, and she comes down beside Max, looking at the flowers with interest. "You take a lot of nature photos, then?"

Whew. "Well, yeah," Max says, suddenly feeling self-conscious about the flower-in-hand photo balanced in her palm. "But it depends, you know, mostly those are just for me. The jobs I get usually have to do with, like, industry, or disenfranchised youth, or how Walmart represents the prison-industrial complex. The photos I _like_ taking the most are nature photos, though. Oh, and personal photos, you know, just to carry around."

Chloe glances at her, but before Max can meet her eyes she just glances back to the flowers. "Of your friends?"

"Yeah," Max says, then, "oh, but! They're not with me, with me. Like, not right now. I wouldn't bring those on a sensitive mission like-" Shut up, shut up, Max is an acclaimed photojournalist and not a stammering teenager and if there's one thing she knows it's photos. She swallows. "I mean, I figure you're not carrying any."

"I don't have any," Chloe says lightly, and her hands are coming down now to stroke, gentle, at the petals.

Max is halfway through shifting on her heels, planning on getting a shot of how shadow hits the cups of yellow tulips, when that makes her pause, and she turns back around. "You don't have any?"

But Chloe seems distracted, hands tangling in the flower petals and stems like Max's had been a moment ago, eyes fixed on the shifting blue. "Yeah. Not a lot of photo ops in this line of work, if you can believe it."

To Max, photos have always been like mirrors, a steadfast form of proof that she exists, that she's growing and changing into the person she knows herself to be, that she is _here_ because she was _there_. She can't even really think of having none of that, no proof that she's ever existed anywhere but in the moment.

And even when Max doesn't want to admit it to herself, she knows that Chloe is beautiful, the angles of her body curving neatly into one another as she crouches, her eyes and hair in gorgeous, almost deliberate contrast with the flowers and the sky. There should be some record of where she and the world touch. Before she even really thinks too much about it, she's leaning back a little on her heels, trying to take in all of Chloe from a short distance- hair, profile, bent legs, the hands intertwining with flowers.

Chloe looks over before Max is able to perfect the shot, though, which kind of ruins it, and she smiles but her expression is openly disbelieving. "What are you doing?"

"You should have at least one photo of yourself," Max says, without putting the camera down; now she has to reconfigure the angle to account for Chloe looking at her. "Especially someplace beautiful like this."

And she's almost got just the right shot when Chloe moves again, settling further back on her heels, and Max huffs in frustration, has to lean more back too. "You're serious about this."

"Yes!" Max says, then gives it more than two seconds of thought. "Oh. There's probably regulation or something against it, isn't there."

"Probably," Chloe agrees, and she's looking directly at the viewfinder now, meeting Max's eyes even through the barrier between them. "But it seems a shame to waste an offer from a photography connoisseur like you."

Max ends up not being able to bite down the smile that curls across her face at that, but that's okay. "Great."

"But," Chloe continues, and she rises to her feet again, gesturing Max up with one hand. Max follows her up, camera held near her chin now, confused and curious. "You should be in it with me. Come here."

That's not exactly the vision Max was working with. "What? N-no, I don't think-"

"It doesn't seem right to have my only personal photo to be just me standing all on my lonesome in a garden in Vienna," Chloe says, trying to draw her expression into something pitiful but ending up just grinning. "Just fucking depressing, don't you think?"

This absolutely is outside the parameters of professional relation behavior. At the same time, though, Chloe's kind of right. Max bites her lip, camera still clutched close to her chest. "I don't think- I mean-"

The conflict on her face must be too obvious, though, because Chloe just raises an eyebrow, reaches out with one arm. "Come on, Max. Please?"

Ugh.

"Fine," Max says, huffing and coming to stand next to Chloe, turning the camera around and holding it away from them with a straight arm- every time she stands right next to Chloe, she feels shorter and shorter. "But then you can't complain about photo quality, I'm good but I'm not a genius, and if I can't see the shot then-"

Her voice cuts itself off when Chloe's hand settles, light, on her waist. She hoists the camera a little higher, and doesn't glance at Chloe, focuses only on the lens. "Okay, um. Smile."

The shutter goes off. She doesn't blink. She hopes her expression isn't stupid.

Before she can reach up to take the photo that comes spitting out, though, Chloe takes it, hand coming off Max's hip to hold it in both hands. Max glances at it, but can't quite see, then up at her, and loses a little breath at the focus in her face.

"And I can keep this?" Chloe says, after a moment of silence and Max shifting anxiously from foot to foot. The amused lilt has left her voice, and it makes Max look up again.

Chloe looks back at her, and hurriedly Max tucks her hair back behind both ears. "Uh, yeah, of course. Can I see? Did it turn out okay?"

Wordlessly, Chloe flips the picture to show Max, and Max leans in to look at it. It's actually a pretty good shot, despite being a blind one. It's lit well, some of the flowers behind them are caught in vibrant color, there's a real sense of blue but it's not overwhelming.

They're both smiling. It looks genuine, real, like all along all they meant to do in this garden was smile.

"Good," Max breathes, despite herself, and watches Chloe's hand pull the photo back to herself, watches her face as she looks at the photo again with a strange sort of intensity before sliding it into her pocket. Then, mostly to fill silence, she says, "Um, I'm just gonna- I'll take one more photo, and then we can go."

Nodding absentmindedly, Chloe looks up again, and Max is about to turn and take that picture of the tulips when Chloe's gaze catches her off-guard, warm and weighty even as she simply says, "Okay then."

Before deciding better of it, Max says, "What's that look for?"

Chloe blinks, then just grins, easy and lazy, sliding her hands into her pockets without taking her eyes off Max. "Nothing," she says. "Just… a stupid metaphor about you and flowers."

"Oh," Max says stupidly, the edges of her camera digging into her hands, and she doesn't know how exactly to react other than turn red, so she just spins around and goes to take the shot of the yellow flowers.

The sun has moved, and the light isn't as good as it could have been moments ago. Max takes the picture anyway, because she said she would.

It's easy to make metaphors between women and flowers. This definitely isn't the first time Chloe's made one, between a rose and a past paramour, probably. It doesn't mean anything real.

* * *

They try six more hotels. Max asks the staff, Chloe checks the log. Still nothing, nothing close to Kate, or even Nathan.

But Max isn't losing hope, she isn't, Kate hasn't given up on Max so Max isn't giving up on her.

They're making their way down a separate street, this one starting to paint over with orange as the sun starts tilting downwards. Their hands are still tangled together, but Chloe's walking slower, and after a moment they come to a stop, Chloe running one hand through her hair. "Listen, babe-"

"You're about to say something awful, aren't you," Max says wearily, coming to a stop beside her. She's starting to get used to the warm weight of Chloe's hand in hers, so she lets it linger there, waits for Chloe to let go.

She doesn't. "It's not horrendous. Just that we might want to consider turning in for the night. It'll be more dangerous to be lurking around asking questions at night than in the daytime. Plus, you need your sleep."

But Max doesn't want to stop on account of her. She's sure if it were Chloe by herself, she'd be hunting hotels down on all night. Max hates this, this feeling of being a burden, something that has to be watched instead of someone that helps watch.

And she's about to say so, but maybe Chloe sees something on her face, because she just squeezes her hand and Max's voice comes a little short. "Come on, Max. We'll check three more hotels, and then I'll buy you a drink, and then we'll check back into our hotel. Sound good?"

"Um," Max says, but Chloe's pulling her along again, her grip gentle but certain. "Chloe, are you sure?"

For a second, she thinks Chloe might stop. It's barely there, though, just a small hesitation in one footstep. Then her pace is normal again. "Yeah, of course. Will you drink what I buy you this time?"

For a second, Max doesn't get it. Then she groans. "Ugh, you were being _such_ an asshole back there. What was I supposed to do?"

This time Chloe really does stop, but before Max can even check her expression, Chloe looks back at her, wide-eyed. Then she lets out a breathy, stunned laugh, and grins huge at Max, and Max stops short too, surprised.

"Sorry," Chloe says, her voice warm with amusement. "I'm not the best with first impressions."

Then she starts tugging Max along again, and Max hates this too but she has to spend a few minutes finding the breath in her lungs again.

* * *

The next three hotels don't have information on Kate either, but at least this time Chloe orders Max a drink she'll actually consume.

She comes back to their table with a glass of wine for Max and a vodka martini for herself, placing both on the table and dropping herself gracelessly atop the seat across from her. Max takes the glass delicately in both hands, trying not to watch with too much interest as Chloe strips out of her suit jacket, rolls up her sleeves. "So, you- oh!"

Because when Chloe reaches out with her right hand for her drink, running her other hand through her hair, it comes forward in a burst of sudden color, vines and brightness circling up Chloe's arm even in the shadow of the bar. Max can't help staring, leaning forward across the table. "Chloe! Wow." Then, "And you said you didn't like flowers!"

Chloe just chuckles, taking a long sip of her drink. "I said I didn't have a favorite, not the same thing. Anyway, you like that, huh?"

"Wow, yes," Max says, too impressed to be anything but genuine. "It's gorgeous." She nearly reaches out to touch it, then catches herself. "How are you a secret agent, anyway? You have blue hair and a sleeve tattoo!"

That only gets her an amused eyebrow lift, and Chloe takes another sip before saying, "I don't usually leave a lot of people to remember me."

Oh. Right. The death and secrecy aspect of secret agenting. Max takes a sip of her wine and figures she should probably move on. "So, um. When did you get it?"

"Ah ah ah," Chloe says, placing her drink down and leaning forward on her elbows, eyelids halfmast in the low red light and the old familiar smirk playing across her face. "There's no use in showing interest to pry info out of me, Miss Caulfield, I'm afraid it's all confidential. No matter how cute you are."

That makes sense too. Max takes another anxious sip of wine. "Oh. Um. Of course. So nothing about where you come from, or your personal life, or-"

"Nope," Chloe says smugly, tracing one finger over the rim of her glass. "Not much worth telling, anyway. However, I'm very interested in learning more about you. That's not confidential, is it?"

God, this feels too much like a date. Max should probably put her drink down. She takes another sip instead, to do something with her hands. "Well, no, it's not, but it's not that interesting either. Besides, you've already read my resume."

"Maybe I just want to hear you tell me what I already know."

At the very least, it'll give Max a good excuse to put her drink down. "You're going to be bored," she says warningly. "Um, okay. I'm twenty-three, I'm from Oregon-"

"I am too," Chloe says suddenly.

It startles Max, and she nearly knocks the menu off the table. "W-what?"

"What?" Chloe counters innocently, taking another sip of her drink.

They just hold gazes for a moment, then Max just huffs, reaching a little uncertainly for her drink again. "Jeez." Chloe chuckles, and Max glances at her uncertainly before going on. "I, uh, graduated from art school two years ago, I live in Seattle but I work away from home a lot- but it's nearly all American jobs, some Canadian, but. I almost never get to come to Europe like this, it's nice. Or it would be nice. Under different circumstances."

"Well, maybe you'll be afforded the opportunity to come back," Chloe says lightly, swirling her drink in her hand. "Or is someone waiting for you back home?"

Max shakes her head, smiling a little, lifting her own drink again. "No one but my parents," she says. "I live alone. But it's not as sad as it sounds, I swear."

It is, actually. But Max does have Kate, and so she needs to get her back, needs to make sure she can go back to her life of drinking tea and not worrying about anything.

"So what'll you do when we save your friend, then?" Chloe says, and when Max looks up Chloe's looking at her again, glass still and balanced between her fingers and gaze fixed on Max. "What's your plan for the future?"

Max is old enough now that she should probably have one. "Um," she says, and hurriedly takes another sip. "Take more photos, mostly. That's all I really have on the horizon."

"Is that enough?" Chloe says.

And that makes her stall, makes her think. She puts her drink down again, and looks at her hands. "Well," she says. "I'm the kind of person that… you know, stuff happens to. I don't go looking for people, you know, the way I look for photographs. I figure if something is meant for me, it'll find me."

Wine and red lighting and the intensity of Chloe's gaze is a bad combination, she decides, and pushes her glass away. But she can't look away from Chloe, the way her face and loose-limbed movements have gone still just to gaze at Max.

Then she breathes, "Romantic," and finishes her martini.

Max swallows. "What about you?" she says, fighting the urge to ball up a napkin. "What'll you do after we find Kate?"

That gets Chloe's eyes off her again, and she just rolls them. "Same thing as always, I'd say."

Max doesn't know what the same thing as always is, but it doesn't sound like anything good. "Oh."

She finishes her drink faster than she probably ought to, because the bar is getting too hot to linger in.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY THAT IT'S SO LONG LMAO...OH GOD SWEATS -haaku
> 
> thanks for thegadgetfish and mostlymilkwood for beta'ing!!

It's a little before noon when Chloe gets a call from Brooke.

Max sits on the bed, poring over maps of Vienna, her laptop open next to her, a red marker in her hand as she draws X's across the hotels that told them they'd never seen a girl who looked like Kate Marsh. Chloe, meanwhile, sits in a chair by the table, feet propped up on the table as she surfs through recent police raids on her own laptop, propped in her lap.

Chloe glances up every now and then at Max, who has her brow furrowed and her teeth digging into her bottom lip as she tries to piece together parts of a map that reveal nothing. Chloe's just about to open her mouth to ask if Max wanted to go out and take a break from research when her phone rings, sharp and staccato in the silence of the room.

When Chloe pulls her phone from her pocket, she can't help the amused smile that crosses her face.

_Q._

Max looks up, of course, eyes wide as Chloe swipes across the screen and sees Brooke's face pop up, irritated as always.

"Hey, Br-," Chloe starts, but then she glances over at Max. "I mean, Q."

"Agent Price," Brooke says stiffly. "Where's…?"

Chloe angles the phone towards Max, who straightens up as Chloe says, "Q, this is Max. Max, this is Q. Our quartermaster."

Max glances from Chloe, and then to the phone screen, before giving a nod. "Oh, uh, hello."

"Any news, Q?"

Brooke sighs, taking off her glasses and rubbing her eyes with her fists. "Yeah, Vienna. After you told me that the target might be there, I started searching the security footage around the city."

Max speaks up, "Did you find her?"

The hope in her voice makes Brooke wince a little, and the two of them see Brooke lean back in her chair, shoulders slumped before she puts her glasses back on. "There was a lot to go through, and my eyes are literally on fire, but I managed to find this - I'll put it up on your computer, Miss Caulfield," she says, and then she turns slightly, typing away on a keyboard off screen before giving an approving nod. "It should be on there now."

Chloe stands up and heads over to join Max on the bed, sitting on the edge as a video pops up on Max's laptop screen. The two of them lean in closer as a pixelated video plays, showing only snapshots every few seconds, but it's clear enough to get a gist of the situation.

An almost empty parking garage, nighttime. The only presence is a group of men surrounding a white van, most of them milling about, seemingly waiting for something. Chloe frowns and glances at the timestamp; the footage was from almost three weeks ago. Turning her focus back to the men around the van, a moment later, another group of men come by, pushing and prodding four blindfolded girls, their hands bound behind their backs with duct tape, stumbling as a man roughly thrusts his hand at her back.

"Oh, God," Max whispers, and Chloe reaches up to give Max a comforting pat on the shoulder; but she pulls her hand away at the last moment.

"Kate!" Max's voice is at once high and broken; the last thing they see on screen is a final girl getting into the back of the van- a girl with a bun, a navy cardigan, and for a split second in the light of the pixelated screenshot, the flash of a cross hanging at her neck. "Oh, no."

But Chloe knows what Brooke wants them to see - she leans in closer to the screen, waiting for the exact moment when the doors to the back of the van close - _there,_ and then the van's driving away off-screen.

Chloe saw it. The license plate.

She glances down at her phone to see it's blacked out, and she looks back up in time to see Brooke's face pop up on Max's laptop. "It's...not what you're expecting, I'm sorry, Miss Caulfield. But I hope that footage might give you the start of a trail."

Max just has her hands over her mouth, face pained, but she gives Brooke a nod anyway. "Thank you, Q," she says, putting her hands down and wrapping her arms around herself.

That brings a smile to Brooke's tired face, but then she's looking at Chloe. "See, Agent Price? That's what being polite is."

"I can't believe you'd know, Q, since you're never polite," Chloe says, and Brooke responds by throwing her hands up in exasperation before shoving them in the front pocket of her hoodie.

"Whatever, Agent Ass," Brooke says, leaning back in her chair again. "Miss Caulfield, I am _so_ sorry you got partnered up with this dumbass. Has she blown anything up yet?"

Chloe's expecting Max to give some scathing remark, but instead what she hears is Max say, "Chloe isn't that bad."

It's the smile that tugs at the corners of Max's lips that makes Chloe see time slow down, and she hears her heart stutter inside her chest and feels the air halt inside her lungs.

Shit, Max is so beauti-

Brooke's voice suddenly slices through the haze in Chloe's mind and then Max is focused back on the laptop screen again, and Chloe has to blink a few times to pull herself together.

"Oh, trust me, you won't be saying that after Agent Price blows up a car or two," Brooke says, and then she's typing on her computer again. "Anyway, Agent Moneypenny has a contact in the city that can probably tell you where the van's gone, which is faster than me burning my eyes out searching through a ton of surveillance footage."

Chloe and Max hear a small ping on Max's laptop, and a notification pops up, an email containing an address and a name.

Chase. Victoria Chase. Chloe's heard about her. A business owner, powerful, rich.

"Nothing really gets in or out of this city without," Brooke makes a vague gesture, "her noticing. I can't tell you much more than that."

"All right. Anything else we need to know before we go to meet our contact?" Chloe asks.

Brooke shakes her head. "Moneypenny already let your contact know that you'd be coming. She'll give you the info when you meet her at the rendezvous."

"Thank you, Q," Max says again, and Brooke nods in response.

"Good luck, you two," Brooke says, and then the video ends.

* * *

The rendezvous, of course, ends up being at a bar. A really, really, fancy one. The windows are tinted so dark that they can barely even see inside. Chloe leans in close to a window, squinting, and she can make out a large dance floor surrounded by chairs and tables, and if she leans in a little closer, she can make out a large bar that takes up almost the entire backside of the room.

Chloe tugs on Max's hand and the two push open the set of double doors, but since it's mid-afternoon, there isn't a lot of people inside. The few people that are there are either sitting at the bar or murmuring quietly at small booths along the walls.

Chloe looks around, and then her gaze stops at a woman with short, blonde hair sitting at a table by herself close to the bar, slowly swirling a martini glass in her hand.

"This looks a little sketchy, Chloe," Max says to next to her, squeezing her hand.

"That's her, alright," Chloe says, glancing at her phone.

"Why is she by herself?" Max asks, and she moves a little closer to Chloe, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "Shouldn't she have like, I dunno, a ton of bodyguards or something?"

"I'm pretty sure she does," Chloe says. "We just can't see them. But come on, the sooner we talk to her, the faster we can get the info and head out, alright?"

Max's grip on Chloe's hand becomes even tighter, but she gives a curt nod. "Alright." But when Chloe moves forward, Max tugs on Chloe's hand, stopping her. "But I'm gonna stay by the door, okay?"

"Max, c'mon. We can't be suspicious. Grab a table at least and order something," Chloe says, and she reaches into her pocket to hand Max her wallet. "I'll be back soon, okay?"

Max bites her lip, her free hand wrapped tightly around Chloe's wallet, but she nods. "Okay."

Chloe slides her hand from Max's and then smoothly strides across the room, straightening her tie and buttoning up her suit jacket before sliding into the chair across from Victoria.

"Miss Chase, hell of a place to hook up," Chloe says, flashing a smile when Victoria turns in her chair to look at her.

"This is my best bar, only for my best patrons," Victoria says, taking a sip from her martini glass and looking Chloe up and down. "So you're the agent Dana tells me so much about."

"Only good things, I hope," Chloe says, leaning back in her chair.

"You do things with...quite a bang, I'm told," Victoria says, and she makes a gesture for a waiter to come by. "Drink?"

"I can never say no to a drink with a beautiful woman," Chloe says, and she directs at the waiter, "Vodka martini, shaken, not stirred." The waiter gives a small bow before heading off to the bar.

That gets Victoria to smile over her martini glass. "And how can a beautiful woman like me," she starts, giving Chloe another once-over, "Help someone like you?"

Ah. So this is why they had to meet in person.

Chloe leans forward, her arms braced on the table as she bites on the corner of her lip, smile tugging at the corners. "Dana told me you might have an idea of where some our...friends might be."

"Might? Please," Victoria says, putting her glass down. "I'm not one to do things half-assed, Miss Price." She presses a finger to her ear and says, "Taylor, the papers."

The waiter comes back with Chloe's drink, placing it carefully on the table between the two of them. Victoria picks her glass up again, taking another sip and eyeing Chloe over the rim of the glass as Chloe picks up her own martini.

"It's not poisoned, if that's what you're thinking," Victoria says. "What your _friends_ are doing, it's… not something I look to favorably." She pulls a face that's a mix between disgust and distaste. "I'm close to buying out all of their, ah, houses here, but it's a little more difficult to find their hangouts elsewhere in Europe."

"Ah, so I have the honor of drinking with an good-hearted samaritan," Chloe says, sniffing her drink anyway before downing it in one go and placing her glass back down on the table. "That's convenient."

"Isn't it?" Victoria says evenly, putting her own glass down. "Well, what can I say. Do unto others and all that. Ah, here we go."

A blonde woman with longer hair appears from behind the bar, dressed as a waitress even though it's immediately obvious from the way she carries herself that she isn't one. She's carrying a tray with one hand, coming to stop in front of their table and placing two new drinks in front of them, as well as a menu in front of Victoria. Then she lowers the tray to her hip, turns to Chloe, and gives her an appreciative once over. "Hey there."

So she's on the inside, then. "Hi."

"This is my dear friend, Taylor Christensen," Victoria says to Chloe, folding her hands neatly to place her chin atop them. "She's an excellent resource to have, multitalented."

"I'm sure," Chloe says, and sniffs the new drink.

"And this is Miss Price, Taylor," Victoria says to Taylor. "The coworker Dana tells me so much about."

Taylor the not-waitress nods once, then smiles at Chloe, showing some teeth. "I see why. Well, enjoy your drinks, ladies."

"Thank you, darling," Victoria says, and watches her walk away. Chloe has to wait until Taylor disappears behind the bar again, and then Victoria's attention turns back to her. Without looking down, she flips the menu open.

Inside are several papers, some pictures and some lists of what looks like coordinates. Even though it's upside down, Chloe can make out what looks to be their van, at a border checkpoint too blurry to recognize.

"Mm," Victoria says, frowning down at the page. "I do know this car. And the man who drives it, if circumstances haven't changed. Logan's a typical fratboy jackass, brown hair that hasn't been washed in weeks, stands like he's always about to punch something." She flips the picture over, checks the date of the photo. "Seems it's been a while, so he may have ditched the van already, but…" She lets go of the page, and her fingers taper lightly against the menu beyond it. "What I can tell you for sure is that this is not casual involvement. Whoever you're looking for is in the heart of a larger operation than your boss likely realizes."

Unthinkingly, Chloe glances over her shoulder for Max. She finds her, sitting and looking anxious a few feet away, then hurriedly looks forward again. "Where is the van now?"

"It seems as though it's disappeared into Berlin," Victoria says, closing the menu again and taking another sip of her drink. "I can't tell you exactly where, I'm afraid that's where the trail ends."

Another vague destination in a big European city. Helpful. "That's a shame."

"It is," Victoria agrees, glass held aloft in her hand even after she's taken a sip. She gives Chloe a careful look, then says, lightly, "Funny coincidence, though. Taylor and I are heading to Berlin ourselves in a couple of days. Big charity ball being held, a must-attend if you were to ask anybody that matters." She brings the glass to her mouth again, eyes fixed on Chloe as she does. "I'm hopeful I might see you there, Agent Price."

Ah. Okay. "Well then," Chloe says, and lifts her drink again. "Maybe I'll get some time off soon, I'd love to swing by. Any chance I might run into my friend there?"

There's a coy smile curling up Victoria's cheeks now, and she looks definition catlike, shrewd. "Who knows?" she says. "It's possible. But isn't the prospect of seeing me there temptation enough?"

Chloe can't help but give Victoria the same smile, and she leans over the table, putting her glass down at the edge of the table. "I can't deny that, Miss Chase," Chloe says in a low voice, and Victoria leans in closer too, and Chloe can smell the alcohol in the air between them.

"Dana definitely wasn't lying about you," Victoria murmurs, and their faces are practically inches apart when Chloe feels Victoria's hand sliding over her own. "You really are worth my time."

" _Chloe,"_ says a sharp, loud voice next to her and then Victoria's leaning back, an amused smile on her face; Chloe blinks and turns, only to see Max standing at her side, fuming, glaring at Victoria. "Chloe," she repeats, "We need to go now."

Max's glare is so focused and intense that it's all Chloe sees, and she barely hears Victoria ask lightly, "And who might you be?"

Max's hands ball up into fists at her sides, and she says through gritted teeth, "I'm her _wife._ "

Chloe goes full-on speechless, and she leans back in her chair, glancing from Max to Victoria and back; Victoria only laughs, swirling her martini glass in her hand. "Of course, I see. I'm many things, but I'm definitely not a homewrecker."

Chloe can almost feel the heat of Max's intensity rolling off of her in waves, and she glances down at the menu on the table just as Victoria does.

"You should take the menu, by the way. I'd love for you to come back here again," Victoria says, but before Chloe can get in a response, Max whips the menu off the table and shoves it into her bag.

"I don't think we will be," Max says coldly.

"Of course. It was nice meeting you both, then," Victoria says, unperturbed, and she gets up, glass in hand. "Enjoy your time in Vienna, Mrs. and Mrs. _Price_." She gives them both a once-over before turning and walking towards the bar.

Chloe's still openly staring at Max, slightly open-mouthed, when Max turns her glare to her. "Come _on_ , Chloe," Max says, roughly grabbing Chloe's hand and almost pulling her out of her chair, walking so fast towards the door that Chloe almost stumbles before she keeps up with Max's fast pace.

The moment they're outside and a few feet away from the bar, Max whips around, scowling and glaring and reaching a hand up to swipe the hair away from her face. "Chloe, you can't just - you can't just go _do_ things like that!"

Chloe's so dazed from what just happened that all she can say to Max is, "What?"

"Like, do, do that thing, with Chase," Max says, pulling her hand from Chloe's and crossing her arms. "You can't go flirting, or- or- _fraternizing_ with every woman you see, because-" And she pauses for a moment, struggling to find the end of her sentence. "Because we don't have time for that!"

Suddenly, it clicks in Chloe's mind, and a slow smile spreads across her face. "You...You're jealous, aren't you?"

" _God_ , Chloe!" Max throws her glare down to Chloe's shoes, crossing her arms even tighter around her chest, but Chloe doesn't miss the unmistakable blush that comes across Max's cheeks. "I'm- you're fucking terrible! I just- I just want to find Kate, okay? And I can't have you wasting our time going to- to- to fuck other people!"

The grin on Chloe's face only grows broader, and Max gives her a shove with both hands, which only makes Chloe sway on the spot. "You really are jealous, babe."

" _Stop_! Let's- let's just _go_ ," Max huffs, turning around and quickly walking down the sidewalk, not waiting for Chloe to catch up to her.

Chloe keeps up a step or two behind, giving Max her space, and for a moment it's just her tall shadow sauntering after Max's hunched over one. For a minute, it's just the two of them on the sidewalk, and Chloe glances up around them and notices that the street's relatively empty, for an afternoon on a big city. Cars line the road in the center, and most of the storefronts have one or two people inside or outside.

She'd known they were going to the outskirts of the urban sprawl that was Vienna. Chloe glances back at Max, who's still stalking away in front of her, shoulders hunched and face forward. Looking up, Chloe sees that they'll have to turn left onto a minor side street.

There's something off here. The hairs on the back of Chloe's neck stand on end once they go left onto the deserted street, and the feeling that someone's watching them is more instinct than knowledge.

She sneaks a glance over her shoulder by pretending to dust off her arm when she sees them out of the corner of her eye - three men, dressed _far_ too formally for an afternoon stroll down Vienna's downtown.

"Max," Chloe says in an even voice, but Max just shoots back at her, " _What?"_ before Chloe's hand is around Max's and then they're walking next to each other, with Chloe picking up the pace.

"Think someone's following us," Chloe says, walking briskly, and she sees Max swallow. "Don't think we can kiss our way out of this one. Stay with me."

"Okay." Max's voice loses all of its bite, and her hand tightens around Chloe's.

Chloe pulls up her phone and just briefly manages to see in the reflection of her screen that the three men behind them have started walking at the same pace as her and Max - no doubt about it, now. She shoves her phone back into her pocket and keeps staring straight ahead. "I don't think we can lose them on foot, if we start running, they might start shooting and there's not a lot of good cover here."

"Okay, what do we do?" Max is almost jogging to keep up with Chloe's fast pace, her voice small with an edge of fear.

"I can take them out if they get close to me," Chloe says, and she spots an alleyway up ahead on their left. "Keep walking with me, I'll keep you safe, but you _have_ to do everything I tell you."

Chloe turns sharply into the alleyway, Max close to her side - and as Chloe was hoping, the alleyway ends in a wall. There's a few parked cars along the left side, and a large dumpster on the right at the far end.

Okay, some cover. If she can just get Max to the end before they start shooting, she might have a chance -

"Okay, when we get to the end, I'm gonna turn and pretend I'm gonna get into the car," Chloe whispers, and Max responds back with a small "okay" before Chloe continues, "I want you to hide behind the dumpster when we get there."

Chloe can hear their footsteps behind them, echoing off the alleyway walls. They're close. But they haven't started shooting. Chloe and Max are to be taken in alive, then, by whoever's after them.

Figures.

Just two more steps and they'll be at the end of the alley - Chloe can almost feel the men's breaths on the back of her neck.

Just another step.

It's when Chloe feels a hand on her arm and the barrel of a gun pressed against her back that she immediately whips her own gun out of its holster in her jacket just as Max dives behind the dumpster.

The first shot she manages to get through the head of the man who'd grabbed her arm - blood spatters from the hole, and onto her suit, but she doesn't blink, already twisting to aim the gun at the man to her right.

Too slow.

The man on her right dives behind a car and the man on her left's sprinting past her side - _towards Max._

But when she tries to aim her gun at the man on her left, he's already thrown a punch to her left side - and _fuck_ that's gonna leave a bruise - and she collides into the car next to her, gun dropping from her hand as the man swings his fist at her head. She ducks, and dodges away from the car, feeling a grim satisfaction as the man's fist collides into the car's metal roof.

Chloe only adds to his pained shout by reaching forward, placing her right palm flat on the man's shoulder before using her left to crudely twist the man's arm behind him. The satisfying pop and the man's scream is enough to tell Chloe's done her job.

Out of the corner of her eye, the man who'd hidden behind the car emerges - Chloe sees him move out of hiding, gun held up, and she immediately takes a step back, moving the man in her hands in front of her right when she hears a gunshot.

She ducks her head behind her shield's shoulder, sees blood spatter and the man's body shudder at the first bullet. When she spends a split second glancing up, the man with the gun's coming forward, closer, and Chloe takes another step backward and in the corner of her eye, to her left, she sees Max ducked in a ball against the dumpster.

But she doesn't linger on that, hears another shot and the man in her hands chokes as the bullet lands in his throat.

Two bullets. But he's a few feet away. Maybe she can make it.

She throws the body in her hands to the left, dodging right as another bullet whizzes past her, and her hand is reaching into her pocket as the man in front of her aims the gun at her again.

She dodges and throws her phone at the man's head just as he shoots, throwing him off balance, and the fourth bullet misses her by two feet. The man's disoriented long enough that Chloe can a step forward and ram her elbow right in the juncture between the man's forearm and upper arm - it reflexively gets the man's hand to aim upward, and another shot fired.

Chloe's other hand whips forward to the man's shoulder, pressing _hard_ on the pressure point, and the man drops the gun along with a loud expletive.

Then his knee rams, sudden, into Chloe's stomach, and she gives a grunt of pain; she manages to dodge a swing of the man's fist before thrusting her own knee straight between his legs.

" _Fucking-"_ is all he manages to get out before Chloe's fist collides into the man's head, and he slams against the dumpster, a loud noise that echoes in the alleyway. Chloe kneels, grabbing the man's head between her hands and then shoving it downward onto her knee.

The loud crack as his nose breaks accompanies his scream, and the blood spatter on her pants tells Chloe he'll be out of it, unable to see, too blinded by pain.

But it doesn't stop him. He presses one hand against the dumpster and pushes himself away, unseeing eyes full of a bull's rage, and Chloe only narrowly manages to duck another swing of the man's fist. She retaliates with an uppercut, and then another, and the man stumbles backward, his grimace painted red.

He charges forward, arms splayed wide to capture Chloe - instead she ducks underneath his arm, slamming one foot down hard on his, and he gives another shout of pain, bending forward. Chloe takes one of his arms, presses her hand down on his neck, and then shoves him into the car to their left.

He rebounds against it, but Chloe grabs him again, arm and neck, holding him immobile.

"Who's your employer?" Chloe pants. "Who is it?"

He doesn't say anything, tries to twist out of Chloe's grip. So she takes his face and smashes it through the window of the car, glass falling into the seat, glass sticking into his face, and blood, blood sprays across the car and the alleyway ground.

" _Who is it?"_ Chloe asks again, arms straining to keep the man in place. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Max, shaking, standing up, looking at her, but she keeps her focus on the man in front of her. "I'd rather not ask again. _Who is it?"_

The man manages to give what sounds like a laugh, choking through the blood all over his face and the glass embedded in his lips.

"You'll never guess," is his answer.

So Chloe takes his head, shifts him slightly, and throws his head back before thrusting it forward and smashing it into the passenger side window of the car. More blood coats the metal of the door, the leather of the seats, the asphalt of the ground.

"I'd rather not ruin all the windows of this nice car," Chloe says. " _Who is it?"_

She gets a laugh in response.

Chloe shifts him again, this time moving towards the front window - and she slams his head straight through it, and now his words are so nonsensical and full of blood and glass that Chloe takes his face with both hands and throws it against the hood of the car. He rebounds upward, stumbling, before Chloe throws her arm around the man's neck and chokeholds him, ignoring the way his feet scramble against the alleyway ground, ignoring how his feeble hands try to pry her arm away.

He finally stops moving.

Breathing hard, Chloe drops his body on the ground, taking a step away from it and reaching a hand up to run through her hair. Jesus. Three on one. Chloe glances around, bites her lip. She'll need to call Dana to call in people to clean this up -

Max.

When Chloe straightens up and turns to look at Max, to really look at her, she sees someone standing pale and small at the end of the alleyway, next to a dead body.

Shit.

She takes a few steps closer towards Max, and now she sees the way Max is trembling, the way her eyes are unfocused and glazed over, can see the blood that's splattered over her clothes. Can see the blood that's gotten onto her cheek.

"Shit, Max, are you okay? Max?" Chloe asks, and she comes to stand in front of Max, who's still staring blankly at something that's not the alleyway they're in. "Max? Are you hurt?"

Max says nothing, just stands there and trembles and Chloe feels her gut twist, feels, for the first time that day, fear settling into her stomach.

"Max, c'mon, talk to me," Chloe says, and she doesn't know why she does this but she reaches up with her hand, towards Max's face - and nothing, nothing compares to the pain of seeing Max flinch, hard, away from her, snapping back into a reality that's an alleyway of dead bodies and blood.

Max breathes harder, her eyes suddenly moving again and she's looking around her, and she stumbles when her foot runs into the body lying on the ground next to her, the one that has a bullet in its chest and a bullet in its throat. And there - Chloe sees it, her eyes widening, the shock and horror writing themselves across Max's face.

Chloe slowly takes a step forward, and she keeps her hands to herself this time, but she tries to take a step towards Max again, tries to meet her eye before she whispers, "Max, come back to me."

And Max looks at her, finally looks at her, and the blue Chloe had become used to seeing, a blue that's soft and gentle and bright isn't the same blue; what Chloe sees, what makes her throat go dry, is a blue that's clear with a kind of fear that Chloe recognizes.

"I'm - I'm here," Max breathes, and reaches a hand up to her face to wipe away the blood there; it doesn't come off, only leaving behind a red streak on her pale face. "I'm - I'm okay."

"You," Chloe starts, and she has to swallow, "You weren't shot or anything?"

Max shakes her head, and Chloe can only nod.

"Alright, um, I gotta make a call," Chloe says, and she slowly - deliberately, she can't bear the thought of seeing Max flinch away from her again - takes a step away and reaches down to pick up her phone and gun. "We'll be out of here soon, Max, I promise."

Max just nods again, wrapping her arms around herself.

* * *

The local authorities come in, thanks to a call from Dana and several phone calls about gunshots, and Chloe gives them what they need to know, flashing her own badge. They're not happy about the mess, but hey, at least it's all in an alleyway and not somewhere out on the street. Max, meanwhile, sits in a cop car, and a few of the cops leave to bring back dinner for the two - Chloe notices that Max barely eats, just nibbles on the sandwich in her hands.

It's evening by the time the authorities drop them off at their hotel.

They go in through a backdoor, only because they can't go through the lobby with blood splatters all over their clothes. Chloe keeps her distance from Max. She doesn't say a single word on the way up the stairs, doesn't say a single word when they walk down the hallway, doesn't say a single word when Max's shaking hand slides the key into the door handle.

That evening, there's nothing but silence in their room, and the only light they turn on is the one by the bed, leaving the rest of the room in gray and black shadows. Chloe takes a shower first, and when she comes out, Max is just sitting in a chair by the table, knees drawn to her chest, eyes shut tight. When Chloe carefully moves around her, keeping her distance, Max gets up from the chair, grabs some clothes from her suitcase, and then goes into the bathroom, locking the door.

Chloe doesn't blame her.

While Max is taking a shower, Chloe stands on the balcony and quietly calls R with an update on what happened. R's response is to tell them to stay low, but she's glad they have a lead to Berlin - but there's a tightness and a worry to her voice that Chloe's not familiar with. Or maybe it's just Chloe projecting her feelings.

She hangs up and goes back inside, and Max is still in the shower, so Chloe grabs her pillow from the bed and tugs down a blanket and some sheets from the closet. She's folding a sheet in half to lay it down on the ground when Max comes out of the bathroom.

Chloe puts the sheet on the floor, smoothing out the corners with her foot. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Max move towards her, but she's probably going to pick something up out of her suitcase -

"You don't have to sleep there," Max says, in a voice that's barely even.

Startled, Chloe just grips another sheet in her hands, eyes wide when she turns to see Max standing a foot away. "What?"

"You don't," Max says, and then she swallows, and she sounds more firm when she continues, "You don't have to sleep there. We can share the bed."

Chloe stares.

"It's… it's really uncomfortable on the ground," Max says, and she glances at the floor before looking back at Chloe.

Then it clicks. Max, trying to show she's not afraid of her.

"It's… It's fine, Max," Chloe says tiredly, and she goes back to folding the sheet in her hands - but then suddenly Max's hand curls around her wrist, tight and viselike, and the combination of small voice and small word makes Chloe's heart stop.

" _Please."_

She turns, slowly, and Max's face looks so vulnerable and fragile that when Chloe's heart starts beating again, it aches in her chest and she wants so badly to hold her hand against Max's face, to see whether or not that softness that comes from wonder and hope is still there inside Max.

Instead, she stays where she is and says, "Okay. All right."

Max lets go of Chloe's wrist, her fingers gently pulling away, and she gets onto the bed, picking up the blanket before getting underneath the covers.

Chloe takes a second, staring at the ground and not meeting Max's eye when she goes to the side of the bed opposite Max and delicately picks up the blanket, slowly sliding herself underneath it. When she's on the bed, she shifts so she's lying as close to the edge as possible, as far away from Max as possible, not wanting to remind Max that she's sharing a bed with an assassin.

She takes a deep breath and then rolls onto her side, her back facing Max. "Night," is all she says when she reaches up and turns off the lamp.

Max doesn't say anything, but Chloe hears her shift and feels the bed move slightly. The only light that comes into the room is the moonlight softly touching the curtains that cover the sliding door to the balcony. It'd be surreal if it weren't for the weighted silence standing in the room.

For a while, they say nothing to each other.

"It's not you, Chloe," Max says suddenly in the dimness.

Chloe doesn't say anything, just lies there on her side, staring at the wall.

"I've seen worse," Max whispers.

That gets Chloe to roll onto her back, to turn her head and see Max lying on her side, eyes wide and clear, and Chloe can't make herself look away from the intensity in her face.

Chloe swallows. and still doesn't say anything.

Max keeps on talking anyway, her eyes never leaving Chloe's. "I was assigned to an American station in Afghanistan two years ago, part of a final internship in college, over the summer."

Chloe stares, unmoving.

"Most of the award-winning photographs in the past have been about war, how it makes the world suffer," Max says. "You know. It's deep. Gritty. Honest."

Oh, God. Max.

"I was never on the frontlines. But I saw the soldiers that came in from there." Max's hand grabs a fistful of the blanket, her knuckles white, even in the dimness.

Chloe's throat is dry when she asks Max in a hoarse voice, "And what did you see?"

"I went to the infirmary, a lot, the first-aid tent," Max says, and she speaks a little faster this time. "There was so much blood on the ground, in the cots, everyone just moaning or screaming from the tent with the surgeons in it."

Jesus Christ. She'd read Max's dossier. She knew Max had been to Afghanistan.

But she'd never thought…

"There was one soldier, a girl," Max continues, and Chloe can hear the shake in her voice. "She was lying in a cot, and I went over to her, and there was shrapnel all in her legs, and she was just bleeding out lying there."

Chloe's chest feels tight, and she's barely breathing as she stares back at Max.

"I could tell what they had to do for her," Max says. "Either amputate her legs or give her a lethal injection and let her die."

It takes Chloe a moment to respond. "What happened?" she asks.

"I held her hand, while she was lying there. She thought I was her mom," Max says. "She kept crying, telling me she wanted to end it all."

Chloe accidentally bites down hard on the inside of her cheek. But she knows it's nothing to the pain of shrapnel - Chloe's felt it before, pieces of metal embedding themselves deep inside her body, past her skin and into the muscle, shining with blood when the doctors pull them out.

"And a little later, the nurses got her on a stretcher and wheeled her out," Max says. "I didn't see her again."

Fuck. Chloe's finding it really hard to breathe, but she forces out, "I'm sorry, Max."

Max shakes her head, and she shifts closer on the bed towards Chloe. "All those soldiers, Chloe, sent out there, but they all came back in pieces."

"Max-"

"Don't you get it, Chloe?" Max asks, and there's an urgency to her tone now. "All of them - all those soldiers on the frontlines, they're trained, and equipped, and _still_ they come back bleeding and all fucked up," and Max's voice cracks at the end, and Chloe feels her a piece of her heart crack too.

But still, Chloe doesn't get it, and she can barely say, "Max-"

"I'm not afraid of you, Chloe," Max whispers. "I'm afraid of what will happen to you."

Oh.

Oh, Max. Jesus Christ.

Max is curled up in a tight ball underneath the sheets now, staring at her with wide eyes.

"Max," Chloe says, "You'll be fine if something happens to me, another agent will-"

"Chloe, that's not- that's not what I'm _talking_ about," Max interrupts, and she turns a part of her face into the pillow, shutting her eyes tight. "I'm scared of what will happen to _you_. Like, what if you get hurt, what if you end up-" and she chokes, she takes a deep, ragged breath.

Chloe fights the urge to put her arms around Max, so instead she says softly, "They can't hurt me, Max."

"They can, Chloe!" Max's eyes snap open and she's meeting Chloe's eye again. "Even if you're the best agent, they can still-"

"Max," Chloe says tiredly, and that gets Max to bite down on the corner of her lip, but she waits for Chloe to continue. "They can't hurt me because I don't have anything to lose."

"What are you talking about, of course you-"

Then Max stops, and it's dark but Chloe can feel it this time when Max looks at her, not glassy and faraway or even heated, just searching. Trying to understand.

Then she just murmurs, "oh," then, "oh, Chloe," and her voice breaks, and Chloe would rather go the rest of the whole mission- the rest of her whole life, actually- without hearing Max make that sound again.

She figures that's got to be the end of it, so she rolls over again, can't make herself look into Max's glittering eyes for another second.

And it is silent, for a while. Chloe's wondering if Max has fallen asleep, if she's tired herself out with distress, when she feels her pillow dip, just slightly, under the pressure of fingers, and she goes still.

Max doesn't touch her. Chloe doesn't expect her to. But she is reaching out to her, Chloe can feel it, and maybe her fingers are touching Chloe's hair, just lightly.

And Chloe's been in a lot of fights, had a lot of good sex, felt the adrenaline rush of life-or-death at least a hundred times, but she's never been quite as aware of every nerve and synapse in her body as she is right now, all lit up.

"Your life by itself is worth something, Chloe," Max whispers. "It's worth a lot, and I _know_ that. You should learn to appreciate it." There's a shaky exhale, and Chloe can feel it, even from all the way across the bed, the ghost of a warm breath dissipating against the back of her neck. "It's precious."

After that, Max goes silent, but the pressure doesn't leave the pillow. Chloe waits what feels like an hour to turn back around, and when she does she sees Max, asleep, arm extended and hand still slack against Chloe's pillow.

Her expression is soft again, like this, close-lidded and unaware, and some hair has slipped in front of her face.

Chloe brushes it away without touching Max's skin, and it's dark but Chloe's well trained, and it's a simple thing but she doesn't think she's seen anything more fascinating than how Max's eyes move, skittering and then slow, under her lids, in the thrall of sleep.

* * *

Chloe wakes up the next morning, lying on the bed, warm and comfortable amidst the gentle sunlight that filters through the curtains.

She's confused, though, when her body feels relaxed and loose, well-rested compared to the usual tightness and tension she's used to experiencing. She glances to her left and picks up her phone on the nightstand, and checking the time tells her she'd slept a full eight hours.

Damn.

She's never slept that long since she was fourteen. Only an hour or two, maybe even three each night since then. After, she'd usually spend the rest of the night smoking herself numb, or going into work early to unload a couple bullets at a few targets.

Then everything from last night crashes into her mind and Chloe, unbreathing, slowly turns her head to her right.

She sees something that she's not expecting, but it's just Max, Max soft and kind, brown hair splayed around her face onto the white pillow beneath her head. Her lips are parted slightly, and Chloe can see the gentle rise and fall of her chest underneath the blanket, and then she casts her gaze back up to Max's face and it's like every freckle painted across her cheeks makes up a constellation of beauty and wonder.

Slowly sitting up in bed, Chloe doesn't take her eyes away from Max, just thinks about all the emotions she's seen play across Max's face.

Max, scowling, her brow furrowed and her hands balled up into fists as she yells at Chloe for flirting.

Max, smiling softly, crouched down next to a rainbow of flowers, delicately touching a pond of forget-me-nots.

Max, her face light and curious as she holds her camera in her hands, gazing at a world that still shows her hope and beauty.

And now, Chloe sees a Max that's unrestrained, unworried, unbound by the stresses of her reality - a reality where her best friend is missing and she's sharing a bed with an assassin who's never known anything else.

But she's thinking now, maybe, there _is_ more, that maybe whatever bright and shiny things Max keeps trying to capture in her lens could be there for Chloe too.

Chloe slowly gets out of the bed and quietly gets dressed, and she makes sure to put the photo of the two of them from the garden in the breast pocket of her suit jacket. She gazes at it for a moment before she puts it away, and she wonders for a split second whether she could ask Max to take more photos of them together - but then she shakes her head. That's crossing a boundary, and Max was hesitant enough to take the photo of them in the garden.

She calls room service and orders some breakfast food before heading out onto the balcony and getting her daily morning smoke in. This time, though, the smoke doesn't weigh inside her chest, dulling her senses and numbing the emptiness - when she breathes out and see the gray haze, it makes her think of how she's alive, there to feel it and there to taste the ash on her lips and there to feel the sun warming her skin.

She's never felt more awake.

Chloe hears a light knock on the door a little later, and she heads inside to pull in a cart topped with shining silver platters covered with shinier silver plate covers. She wheels it in, and opens the first platter - a gigantic Belgian waffle, topped with whip cream and strawberries.

Nice. Super nice.

When she's placing the silverware on the table, she pauses for a moment, holding up her left hand. The ring...She closes her hand into a fist, angles her hand so the diamond catches the light just right, reflecting white and silver on the inside. For a moment, she flashes back to how Victoria had said _"Mrs. and Mrs. Price."_

She glances up when she hears rustling on the bed, only to see Max rubbing one of her eyes, propping herself up on the bed and yawning. "Wow, that smells _really_ good," she says, and then her gaze turns toward the cart, and she immediately brightens.

"Morning to you too," Chloe says, taking the plate with the waffle and placing it on the table. "I remembered you said you liked waffles, but they only make Belgian waffles here, so."

Max tugs the blanket off of her and hops off the bed, making her way to Chloe, eager and excited as Chloe removes the covers from the rest of the platters - eggs, bacon, french toast.

"Oh, wow- this looks great, Chloe," Max says as she helps Chloe move plates to the table. She straightens up and looks Chloe in the eye, and Chloe looks back at her; she doesn't know what to say, because Max looks so bright and happy, but then Max says to her, "Thank you."

It's sincere, appreciative, and so real and full of a kind of gratitude that Chloe's not used to.

So, of course, she stumbles on her response. "Um, uh, yeah, sure, no problem, Max," she says, and she must look funny to Max because Max bursts out laughing and sits back in a chair, smiling as she picks up a strawberry and bites into it.

"What, never had anyone say thank you to you before, Chloe?" Max asks, and though her tone is playful, Chloe can see the way her smile doesn't reach her face.

So she plays it off, doesn't want to see the broken Max from last night. "No one as beautiful as you, Mrs. Bond," Chloe says, and Max groans and throws a cloth napkin at Chloe's face.

"You and your one-liners," Max says, but she's grinning again, illuminated in a bright halo by the sunlight coming in from the balcony; Chloe hears and feels her heart beat a little faster, and for a second, she understands why Max takes photos.


	9. Chapter 9

When she wakes up again, it's a different room.

There's furniture in the room, though. She's on a bed, there's a table in the corner, surrounded by three chairs. A lamp sits atop it, providing the only light in the room - there's no window here, and it's a little chilly, so she gets the feeling that she's in a basement. She'd asked the date from one of her guards a few days ago; it's the middle of fall, and she felt an ache in her heart as she thought of the bursts of colors of leaves falling from trees, the warm and soft comfort of a scarf around her neck, the tea times she had with Max.

She takes a deep breath. She has to keep her faith. Keep herself together.

She sits up on a bed and glances down at her handcuffed hands. They're a relief- the guards had stopped with the duct tape after a while. _He_ didn't think she'd try anything.

And as much as she hates to admit it, she isn't trying anything. Technically.

She twists, reaching one of her hands out towards the lower end of her back, just at the waist of her skirt; she can still feel the bobby pins she's collected hooked around the fabric. Her guards are always just accommodating enough to give her more bobby pins, to 'hold up her bun.' Which was what they were doing. Sort of.

She glances up when she hears men's voices outside again, and quickly withdraws her hands and clasps them behind of her. She never learned how to lockpick, like Max, but she's been trying to unlock her cuffs in her spare time, in the little pieces of the day when she's actually conscious and awake.

The men's voices grow louder, and now she can just barely make out _his_ voice.

" _Idiots!_ How fucking hard is it to capture _one_ fucking agent?!"

There's some incoherent babbling and stammering in response, and then she hears a loud thud against the door.

"Three of you imbeciles against one, and you couldn't even _manage_ ," he says from outside the door. There's a pause, and she strains to hear what he says next. "Nathan, go take care of the agent. And do it _quickly_ , she's moving faster than expected."

There's a response that she can't quite make out, and then he suddenly snarls, " _Alive_ , I need the agent _alive_."

Agent. She purses her lips and frowns. Is the agent… Max? But she can't imagine Max taking out three grown men by herself. Or maybe Max got someone else to find her. She'll be saved, one way or another. In the meantime, she has her bobby pins.

She fights back the instinct to flinch when the door slams open, and he walks in, hands on his hips and scowling at the wooden floor. He moves his gaze to her, and she doesn't look away - then he takes his glasses off and wipes them with the end of his white button-up.

"Some people, Kate, are just so inexplicably incompetent, that they can't even do the most basic of things to function in life," he says. "Which not only wastes my fucking time, but also means I have to use a very valuable resource to do something as simple as reciting the goddamn alphabet."

He puts his glasses back on and then walks over to a table in the corner of the room, placing one palm flat on the surface and leaning on it. "Do you ever feel that way, Kate? When you're in a team and _no one_ holds up their end of the bargain? Do you understand how hard that makes things?"

She's experienced her own fair share of imbalanced group work, yes. Would she tell him that? No.

"Things were NEVER this hard when she was here," and she does flinch this time when he kicks a chair over, the loud sound of it clattering onto the ground making her heart jump to her throat. "Everything went so smoothly when she was with me, because she was perfect, _goddamnit!"_

He whips around, face contorted with rage, and she swallows; she can't show him her fear, so she keeps as straight of a face as she can.

There's a second where he composes himself, his expression turning back to something close to mild-mannered, but all she sees is a soulless husk of a human giving her a small smile. "But we'll meet again soon. That's all that matters, right, Kate?"

She doesn't say anything.

"We'll be together soon," he says, sitting down in a chair. "She'll be with me, once everything falls into place."

Whatever plan he has in mind, clearly it involves this 'agent.' Is the agent supposed to be the girl he's mentioning? Does _she_ know who the agent is? It can't be Max, because Max has _never_ mentioned a man like this.

"I just wish she were here with me now. Do you ever get that feeling, Kate? Of missing someone?" he asks, and she's sure he knows the answer. "Of course you do. You don't have anyone here. Of course you miss your friends, family, whatever." He waves a hand.

She finds it really hard to imagine that that monster is capable of feeling anything, let alone the ache that comes with missing a life that's untethered by the stresses of trafficking rings and guns and thugs.

"I mean, Nathan gets the job done, but he never does it the _right_ way, do you catch my drift?" he asks, leaning one arm on the table and appraising her with a curious look. "You know when he found me, he was so high, he didn't even realize I was bleeding out. I had to _guide_ him to the nearest doctor."

She has to resist thinking of anything dark enough to break her resolve, but she definitely regrets that he didn't manage to bleed out to his end.

"But the drugs, Kate, they make him...stronger, in their own way," he says. "That's why he's useful. He's unstoppable. It's nice to know that he's indebted to me. Through his addiction, unfortunately, but self-interest is stronger than loyalty, and it pays to be on the receiving end of both."

The monster not only trafficks girls but gets people addicted to drugs too. How many lives has this man ruined? How long has this been happening?

"An addiction to drugs and a father figure," he says under his breath, and then he stands up and dusts off his pants before clasping his hands behind his back. "But God, it's like having to keep still a rabid rottweiler on a leash."

If only the dog would bite the hand of its master.

"I have to spend _so_ much more energy keeping things going nowadays, Kate," he says. "With her, things were so easy."

Her. Her. Her. Who is this girl? He talks about her all the time. His obsession with perfection is obvious enough, but _who_ is this girl?

"Things were _perfect_ , you could say."

Of course they were. She's got that understood.

"She never failed an assignment from me. She did everything she was told, and her _smile_ ," and she can see that he's far away from the room they're in, imagining the girl that still haunts him. "Her smile was beautiful, Kate."

She prays even harder that this girl never meets this man again.

"But the last time I saw her, she didn't smile for me, broke my heart," he says, and he reaches up and fiddles with the collar of his button-up. "I take back what I said. She did everything perfectly, except once. When she tried to kill me."

The girl's tried to kill him before. And now he wants to meet her again? This doesn't make any sense.

He lets out an exasperated huff. "But she's too good at her fucking new job. It makes things complicated, you see."

Whoever this girl is, she's glad that the girl's good enough to stay hidden. That means she'll be safe, at least. Maybe her escape will be enough to help Kate's along.

There's a knock on the door and he turns his head towards it, brow furrowed. "What? I'm having a conversation with Miss Marsh."

A head pokes inside - one of her guards - and he says, "The van's ready, sir."

He gives a nod, then looks back at her. "Well, since things are moving more quickly than I imagined, we'll have to go on another trip, Kate. Isn't that exciting?"

She still doesn't know where she is, let alone whether or not she's in Berlin, and she grits her teeth. She doesn't have anything with her, can't leave behind a note or something for Max - or this agent - to find, and already they're on the move again.

He steps towards her and pulls out a syringe, its silver needle glinting in the light from the lamp.

She hates this part, she hates it so much, but she knows if she resists they'll find another way to knock her out.

He's withdrawing a clear liquid from a small jar that he pulled from his pocket, giving her another small smile. "We'll be heading to the City of Love, next, Kate. Because I think that's the perfect place for reunions."

Paris. From Berlin, to Paris.

Oh, she'd never wanted to go to Paris in this way.

He comes closer towards her and she fights back the trembling in her hands and she manages to think one thing.

 _Psalm 31:24. Be strong and take heart, all you who hope_ -

And then the needle sinks into her neck.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to thegadgetfish for beta reading!

It's noon when the two of them board another private jet, headed for Berlin. Max walks ahead of Chloe this time, the light breeze gently rustling the edges of her yellow sundress, and she reaches up with one hand to adjust her sunhat before pausing; Chloe's been with her long enough now that she knows those are the moments when Max is thinking of taking a picture, and she takes a moment to stop and admire the view too.

Maybe it's just the bright color of Max's sundress, or maybe it's just the soft smile on Max's face, but Chloe feels a little lighter, less tension in her shoulders.

When Max stops a few feet away from the jet, turning to reach inside her bag, Chloe's automatically moved to her side, arms out to hold Max's things while she goes to take a picture - so she's surprised when Max looks back at her, camera in hand and eyes narrowed before there's the flash and whirr of a shutter.

There's a second where neither of them say anything, and then Chloe blurts, "What?"

Max just repeats back the question. "What?"

"What was that for?" Chloe asks, and she nods at the photo in Max's hand, developing into a startled Chloe against a backdrop of an airport and blue skies.

"Nothing, my finger slipped," Max says, stuffing the photo and camera back in her bag. "Let's go."

Max takes a few steps forward to the plane, leaving Chloe standing there and holding her things, before she turns back around and grabs her things before huffing out a "don't" and then turning back and getting onto the plane.

Chloe has to stand there for a moment, just watching Max walk away, before she follows after.

* * *

 

When the jet's sailing amidst the sea of clouds, Chloe takes her suit jacket off and drapes it over her seat before getting up to get them drinks. Max gives a nod from her seat on the couch, still poring over Victoria's notes and coordinates in her lap.

When she comes back, sleeves rolled up and hands bearing two glasses of wine, she doesn't miss how Max meets her eye for a moment as their fingers brush - but then Max's hand takes the glass away, and she looks back down at the notes in her lap.

Chloe plops down next to her, taking a sip from her own glass. "So? Find anything interesting?"

Max tucks her hair behind her ears and shakes her head. "No, not...not really. But it seems like Chase gave us coordinates to a couple of different houses." She takes a sip of her wine before continuing, "I, uh, can't really figure out much else. They went through the border checkpoint a few weeks ago, though."

Chloe nods. "Q's checking out the houses now. She'll be looking for any recent activity in any of them, and that's probably where we'll find our guy."

Max places her glass on the table before shuffling the papers in her lap, gripping them with her hands as she bites her lip. "And maybe we'll find Kate, too."

Chloe also puts her glass on the table in front of them and meets Max's eye. "I promise, Max. We'll find her."

Max slides the papers onto the table, turning to face Chloe a little. "I just- I just hope that-" Max starts, and then she sighs and Chloe notices that she leans in a little closer. "I just hope that she's all right."

Immediately, Chloe flashes back to last night and she winces a little. She hates seeing that look on Max's face, downcast and worried and burdened by a weight she doesn't know how to carry.

Chloe shifts a little closer. Max doesn't move away. Chloe sees the clear blue of Max's eyes again.

"Max," she says softly, but then there's a loud crackle on the speakers and Max jumps away a little, putting a hand over her heart as a TV rises a panel on the table.

"Shit, can you guys hear me?" Brooke's voice comes through the speakers, touched by a sound of static, and Chloe has to resist putting her foot through the TV as Brooke's face flickers onto the screen.

"Yes, Br - _Q_ , we can hear you," Chloe says stiffly, turning to look at the screen.

Max mutters "Jesus Christ" under her breath as Brooke reaches off-screen to a keyboard and begins typing. "Okay, awesome, we've been having some bad reception lately because one of the new recruits messed up micro-adjusting the satellites," Brooke says with an irritated huff. "Can't believe they managed to-"

" _Alright_ , Q, what news do you have for us?" Chloe asks loudly.

"Right. The coordinates that Chase gave you looked like they were all safe houses for the trafficking operation," she says, and the screen's replaced with several pictures of different urban houses and a few warehouses. "I checked out some of the surveillance footage around them, and some haven't been visited in a few months."

Max clears her throat and asks, "But there's one that _has_ been visited recently, right?"

Brooke pops back up on the screen and she nods, and then there's a picture of a house and its address below it. "Yeah, but it's in a residential area. _If_ you can, Agent Price," Brooke says, shooting Chloe a look, "When you go to apprehend Mr. Robertson, _try_ not to cause a mess, alright?"

"Why do you always think every mess that happens in the world is me, Q?" Chloe asks, throwing a hand up in the air in exasperation. "Next thing I know you're gonna tell me to stop causing world disasters."

"Well, you _are_ a disaster," Brooke says, and Chloe bristles and opens her mouth to shoot back a retort before Max cuts in, "Is there anything else we should know before we go find Robertson, Q?"

Brooke turns her attention back to Max and shrugs. "There's nothing complex to the process of finding a source and getting information, Miss Caulfield, but," and she types something on an off-screen keyboard before giving an approving nod, "I'm giving you the information I dug up on Mr. Robertson. He's...made quite a list for himself in the criminal records. Here's the info you'll need on him."

A paper prints itself out from atop the TV screen, and Chloe reaches forward and immediately raises her eyebrows. "Damn, this guy's got a _ton_ of shit on him."

"I know. Not surprised he's in a criminal ring," Brooke says. "There's always an anonymous person posting his bail, and somehow he's managed to avoid getting indicted on any charges in court."

Chloe chews on the inside of her cheek while she reads down the gigantic list of illegal actions Logan's done. Power. The ring has power. Enough power to even get their tiny henchmen out of the hands of the law.

"Anyway, that's all I have for you two. Good luck." Promptly, the screen blacks out, and the TV slides back into the table.

"Jesus Christ, this guy's been caught for tons of things," Chloe says. Possession of drugs, ranging from marijuana to heroin to ecstasy, credit card fraud, identity thievery, assaulting a law enforcement official...The list went on.

Max leans in closer to Chloe, squinting at the list. Chloe holds the paper a little closer to Max to let her read it better when Max huffs.

"Hold the paper there," she says, and she reaches out to her bag next to her, rummaging inside it for something while Chloe just looks at her with raised eyebrows. Max pulls out a pair of glasses from her bag, carefully placing them on her face before shifting closer to Chloe, their arms and legs touching as she glances over the list.

Chloe stares, possibly forgets to breathe for a second. Max. With reading glasses. Max. Sitting _right next_ to her.

"Holy shit," Max breathes, reaching one hand up to adjust her glasses, "This guy's pretty fucked up, Chloe."

Chloe doesn't know what to say. Max wearing glasses. Max's arm brushing against her own.

Max gently tugs the paper from Chloe's frozen hand and glances down it herself, biting on her lip as she flips it over and looks at the image of Logan's current safehouse. "Sad this house belongs to a criminal. It looks so nice."

Chloe reminds herself to breathe before she says, "Yeah, yeah."

Max puts the paper back on the table before reaching up to take off her glasses, and Chloe instinctively blurts, "Wait."

Max pauses, lowering her hands slightly. "What?"

Staring for just a moment longer and noticing how their faces are inches apart, all Chloe can say is, "You."

"Me what?" Confusion crosses Max's face, but there's a slight blush to her cheeks. "This is about my glasses, isn't it?"

"...Yeah."

"Don't make fun of me for them, okay?" Max asks, and she takes off her glasses before Chloe can say anything else. "I know, I know, I'm too young to need reading glasses-"

"You looked great in them," Chloe says simply.

Max pauses while putting her glasses back in her bag and she seems to struggle with a response before saying, "Thanks, Chloe."

"Anytime, babe."

Max rolls her eyes and mutters a halfhearted "ugh," but Chloe doesn't miss how Max doesn't move away, how Max's hand slides next to hers and intertwines their fingers together, the ring on her hand comfortable against her skin.

* * *

 

The hotel room is a lot like the other ones- one bed, soft armchairs, a balcony that stretches out underneath the chilly yellow light of the city. Max carefully puts her things down at the bedside, crosses her arms and looks around. Finally, her eyes settle back on Chloe, who's tapping something into her phone, preoccupied. "So what now?"

"Robertson," Chloe says distractedly. "He's a grunt, but he's got to have some information useful to us. Chase gave us the lead of the ball that's happening tonight in the city, there's got to be a connection between that and the trafficking ring. I can shake him down, and then you and I will need to get suited up."

For a second Max doesn't put two and two together. "Suited up for what?" Then, "For the _ball_?"

Chloe just nods, a little absently, and slides her phone back in her pocket. "Yeah, more likely than not we'll have to infiltrate. Get you a dress." She looks up and meets Max's eyes, gaze catching on how her hands have clenched over her crossed arms, and gives her a little grin. "Don't look so freaked out, Max, this isn't nearly as scary as being chased through the Viennese streets by the mob."

"Easy for you to say," Max mutters, but still, she's probably right. Max came into this mission ready to do what it took. Still, there's a lot of taking to do that she didn't necessarily anticipate- top examples being attendance to a real actual ball and the gentle way Chloe touches at her and looks at her and speaks to her when Max isn't expecting it. "Okay. So Robertson first, then, um, ball clothes, I guess, and then-"

She's already crossing to her bag to put her hat back on when Chloe says, "Max, you don't have to tag along on this one. You can stay here."

Max pauses, already fitting the brim of her hat back over her head. "What? Why?"

Now when she looks back at Chloe, Chloe's still not meeting her eyes, but she doesn't look distracted anymore, just slightly uncomfortable. "Well, you know- with Robertson, there's nothing for you to-"

She makes a vague gesture suggesting a punch, and Max gets it, sudden, hands pausing as she adjusts the hem of her dress. "Is this about what happened yesterday?"

There's only a split second where Chloe hedges, and it's a lot more telling than her start of, "No-"

Max does her best not to wince. She'd kind of hoped they could leave her (mostly just embarrassing) freakout in front of entirely predictable violence behind them, back in yesterday where she'd snapped out of reality for too long and been absolutely _not_ put together, like she promised herself she would be if something like what happened actually happened. Where she'd told Chloe a lot of shit she didn't really want to revisit and Chloe probably didn't want to hear; crossed a lot of professional-partner boundaries, bringing them into the same bed and touching Chloe's hair and giving her advice she didn't ask for.

"I'm okay now, Chloe," she says, and she does really wince at that, because it's impossible to make that sentence sound convincing. "I _am_ ," she repeats, with more conviction when Chloe looks up at her, a shade too skeptical. "I'm sorry about what happened yesterday-"

"You don't have to apologize-"

She already has, so she just barrels on. "But I _can_ handle this. I can. I don't want to just sit here and wait in the hotel room for you to come back. Let me come with you."

It strikes her, then, that she and Chloe haven't been separated for a second since they left on this mission. It's a strange, unsettling sort of feeling. More unsettling is the idea of splitting up now, at what's probably the climax of the whole search.

Chloe hasn't moved from her corner of the room, but even from this distance her eyes are searching Max's face as though she's only inches away, taking in detail.

"I don't want you to make yourself do this," she says. "Max, I don't think you're weak."

Max blinks, and she's going to open her mouth to say Chloe _better_ not think she's weak, before she realizes that's exactly what she's been most afraid of this whole mission. Chloe doubting her.

So she says, "I know. But it's really okay. I just want us to stick together." And, a little bold, she reaches out with one hand. "We're a team."

Chloe glances down at her hand, then back up at Max's face, and for a second there's a look caught in her eyes that's almost vulnerable, unsure. Then she huffs, and smiles, and reaches out too, tangling Max's hand with hers again.

"Okay," she says. "We're a team."

And Max can't really help beaming, even if it doesn't quite fit the serious and unaffected aura she's been trying to emit. It's okay, though. Chloe just smiles back.

* * *

 

Robertson's house is still very nice in real life. It's also bigger than Max thought it would be.

Chloe stops them a couple feet down from the house, and Max is still gazing up at it when she says, "Max, listen. Wait here."

She lets go of Max's hand, and Max looks up at her, startled. "Wait here- you mean, while you go in and-"

"Yeah," Chloe says, using both hands to pat down her suit jacket. "I won't be long, I promise."

After all Max did just to get them both to this point, she thought maybe what she said was going to carry her a little farther. "But-"

Then Chloe looks up again, eyes dark and solemn, and Max's voice falters, and goes entirely dead when Chloe reaches up and presses one hand to Max's cheek, warm and calloused, cold where her ring rests between their skin.

"You agreed when you came on this mission that you'd do what I told you," she says, her voice low and quiet. Their faces are too close. Max can feel her breath across her own mouth. "I'm telling you to wait here."

Even with Chloe's hand still soft against her face, Max bristles. "Well, I thought-"

"I won't be long," Chloe says, straightening up and pressing something cold and bulky into Max's hands with her free arm. "Do you know how to use this?"

Max looks down, and swallows. She's held a gun before this, but it's still too weighty, too worrying. "Um. Technically."

"Don't worry too much about it," Chloe says. "It's just a precaution. Nothing bad will happen. Just wait here, and I'll be back in fifteen minutes, tops. Don't look so anxious, okay?"

Her hand leaves Max's face, but she does give her hair a little tug before pulling it away completely. She lingers there for a second, watching Max turn the gun over uncertainly in her hands, then gives her a brief salute and disappears behind the back of Logan Robertson's estate.

It's very quiet when she leaves. The entire time she's gone there's no sound, just birds and wind and the click of Max's ring against the metal of the gun.

* * *

 

She comes back after nine minutes, jacket sleeves rolled up and dragging the back of one hand across her mouth. Her tie's undone and her hair's slightly ruffled, shirt slightly untucked, but other than that she barely looks any worse for wear.

Still, just seeing her is enough to spike worry, and Max hurries forward, careful with the gun in one hand and reaching out with the other. "You okay?"

"Yeah, fine," Chloe says, looking at the back of her hand critically. Max peers up too- her knuckles are bruised purple, and slightly smeared with blood, but she can't tell if it's Chloe's or someone else's. "What about you, are you all right?"

Max just shakes her head. "I'm fine, don't worry about that- you were _fast_. Did he tell you anything important?"

Chloe takes the gun back from her, nodding and rolling her eyes. There's still a smudge of blood on her mouth Max's is pretty sure doesn't belong to her. "Yeah. Big son of a bitch, though, tried his hardest to put up a fight. Probably because he wasn't any good at keeping secrets."

Without thinking, Max reaches up and rubs the blood smear off Chloe's lip, delicate in case it's from a cut. The dark look in Chloe's eyes vanishes, and she looks down at Max in surprise.

Quickly, Max pulls her hand away, does her best not to flush. "Um. And?"

For a moment Chloe just looks at her, and Max does her best to look back, not fidget. Then she says, "Let's head uptown, I'll tell you on the way. We don't have a ton of time to waste, now we have to get to the ball tonight."

Ugh. Okay. The ball. Max just nods, reaches down automatically for Chloe's hand then pauses, is careful to avoid where her knuckles have bloomed with color when she brings their palms together. "Okay then. You sure you're all right?"

That just gets Chloe to look at her again, longer this time, and it's enough of a pause that Max opens her mouth uncertainly before Chloe just chuckles, tugs her forward again. "I'm fine. Way better than usual. Come on, let's go."

Her hand is even warmer than before. Max tries not to hold onto it too tight.

"It's a masquerade ball," Chloe murmurs to her as they move up the Berlin street, past shops and vendors. Max does her best to focus on Chloe, not get distracted by the old buildings and the bursts of sound and movement. It's easier now than it used to be. "I'll message Dana, find some way to get us masks. The dancing is just a front, there's an underground auction being held underneath the ballroom."

"Of people," Max says, just to be sure.

"Yes, of people. It's a large operation, the ring is pretty much the sole carrier of the entire ball, auction, coverup. Most people who are going to be there aren't even going to be aware of illegal activity. There's one attendant in between the dance and the auction, Hayden Jones, who brings people to the auction from the ballroom. You say a codeword to him and he takes you down. Apparently he'll be wearing a black mask with blue feathers on one side. That's our guy to look for."

A masquerade ball. As if a regular old ball wasn't intimidatingly fancy enough. "Blue feathers, got it," Max says, a little breathlessly. Even now, Chloe moves a lot faster than she does. "So- so if we see him, you'll say the code word, and he'll bring us downstairs-"

"He'll bring _me_ downstairs," Chloe says, looking furtively around the street. "Once we spot him, I want you to get out of the ballroom, find some kind of getaway vehicle. Shit is going to go down fast once I enter the auction, I need us to be able to get out of there as quickly as possible. Kate Marsh is there, I grab her and we split, leave the rest to the Berlin authorities. It'll probably be messier than that, but if we're prepared our damage control ought to be non-disastrous."

She comes to a stop suddenly, and Max nearly crashes into her. "This is your stop."

Max looks up, rubbing her wrist with her free hand. It's a small clothing shop, formalwear, with a line of androgynous pouty mannequins lined up in a duck-shooting row, black-and-white suited and polished. "My stop?" she repeats dubiously.

"Yeah," Chloe says. "Sorry to have to do this, but we don't have that much time. I'd have you go pick up your own dress, but we need to split up, and this shop is in a more populated area than the dress place. It's safer for you to get my stuff here."

This is even more daunting than splitting up at Henchman Street. "Wait, you want me to-"

"It won't be hard," Chloe says, letting go of her hand and turning to face her, one hand on her hip. Purple and red still stain its back, dully, where it sits firm against her waistband. "Dana already put in the order for a tux, all you need to do is go up to the counter and ask for the Bond order. Okay?"

A _tux_. Max laughs, despite herself, a little hysterical. "Okay. Bond. Got it. And we'll meet back here?"

Chloe nods, once, short and sure. "Stay in sight. Stay out in the open. I'll be back as soon as I can."

She barely has time to say "okay," before Chloe is pulling carefully out of her grip, giving Max a wink, and she's only two or three paces away when Max remembers. "Wait, hang on-"

And she's moving forward as Chloe stops in place and turn around, and by the time they're face to face there's no way to make their proximity look unnatural and awkward to an outside viewer. Max hesitates, then goes up on her toes, wraps her arms around Chloe's shoulders. Chloe doesn't go stiff, but Max can feel surprise, tight in her shoulders.

She smells like smoke, and a little like salt, and something else acrid and sweet. She murmurs, "What?" in Max's ear, one hand settling so light on the small of Max's back that Max can barely feel it.

Max forgets, for a moment, what she was going to say to begin with. Then she goes up a little higher on her toes. "Nothing, just," she says, and her mouth is kind of too close to the bridge between Chloe's ear and cheek but Max can't find a better leverage point. "I'm a size six dress- my mom always gets me a size eight, but I'm not tall enough. I just wanted to say."

And for a second she holds there, Chloe's hair brushing against her nose and lips, but there's really nothing left to say, so she pauses, and then unwinds her arms from around Chloe's neck again, comes back down on her toes.

Chloe's hand presses into her back for one moment. Then the pressure's gone. There's space between them again. "Stay in sight," she says, "I'll be back."

Then she disappears.

* * *

 

Chloe has to take a moment to catch her breath when she gets to the dress shop; she'd done her best to speed down the sidewalks of Berlin and narrowly dodge the plethora of tourists that crowded the streets. Gotta be fast. Can't leave Max by herself for too long.

She straightens her tie and runs a hand through her hair before pulling open the glass door, where she's immediately greeted by an elderly woman who introduces herself as Elise. The shopkeeper eyes Chloe up and down, taking in her suit and blue hair, but nonetheless waves a hand for Chloe to follow her inside.

"So, what are you looking for? Bridal gowns, ball gowns, evening dress? Or something else?" Elise asks, turning to Chloe and gesturing to the entire store, where dresses of all kinds hang on racks or are displayed proudly on pristine walls.

Chloe puts her hands on her hips and looks around her, suddenly unsure. She'd come in a hurry, but now that she's here, she's having a hard time imagining what dress would look perfect on Max.

Then again, probably anything, but Chloe wants to make this special.

"Uh, I'm looking for an evening dress for my date, but I don't really know what I'm looking for."

Elise gives a _tut-tut_ and a knowing nod before asking, "A date, I see, I see. Does your date have a color preference?"

Oh, shit, yeah. She instinctively reaches up to her hair and says, "She likes the color blue. Like - "

"Like your hair?" Elise asks, and she nods again. "Yes, I see, I see."

Elise gestures for Chloe to follow her through the racks of dresses, where she pulls several off and holds the tops of the hangars delicately in her hand. Chloe has to make an effort to keep up - despite being an old woman, Elise briskly walks through the aisles of her store with confidence and speed.

"This one, or maybe this, oh, yes, this too," Elise says, and Chloe's unsure if it's to her or to herself, and she almost runs into Elise when the old woman stops in her tracks in front of a set of three mirrors.

"Sorry - "

"Dresses, all blue," Elise says, and she shoots her arm out, holding one.

Chloe starts to think Elise has some sixth sense for dresses because she's barely held out the first one when she abruptly turns and puts it on an empty rack.

"Your face, I could see that you didn't like it," Elise says, and then she holds out another.

The same thing happens for several more dresses - Chloe can barely even get a word out before Elise whips around and tosses the offending dress away. Some of the dresses are a deeper blue than forget-me-nots, so it's not the right color, and some are lighter, a baby blue that doesn't look quite right on her image of Max. Then some of them look too frilly around the hem, too decorative, too sparkly, too -

"Tell me what your date is like," Elise says after she hangs up what's probably the twentieth dress. She gives Chloe a meaningful look, and Chloe purses her lips for a moment, turning her gaze to the ground.

What is Max like? There's so much about her...

"She's," Chloe pauses, and Elise gives a nod of her head, "She's soft, and kind, and she cares so much for the world. For people."

"Yes, go on," Elise says, pulling out a notebook and pen from her back pocket.

"She likes the color blue because she likes flowers and shit," Chloe says. "Forget-me-nots."

"Mhm, pretty flower, yes," Elise says, scribbling notes.

"She's a photojournalist, so she likes taking a lot of pictures, and she carries around this old Polaroid camera," Chloe says, and she sounds wistful when she continues, "And the way she looks when she wants to take a photo, it's like...You can just see that _she_ sees that there's more in the world, you know?"

"Yes," Elise says, flipping a page in her notebook.

"And, this is gonna sound weird, but when she sleeps, she just looks so at peace," Chloe says, looking at the ground and trying to conjure up a clear image of Max, closed-eyed and expressionless, in her mind's eye. "She looks like light."

"Mhm," Elise says, tapping the tip of her pen against a page in her notebook. "Stay here. I'll be back shortly."

Chloe's left to stand there for a few minutes, wondering what was the point in telling Elise all that about Max. It wasn't exactly objective. Besides, she has to think back to how much time she's had to actually _know_ Max- have they really only been together a few days? - when Elise comes hurrying back, a dress in her arms.

"Here. This one," Elise says smugly, and she holds the dress out in its full length.

Chloe's mouth drops open. Cliche, for sure, but it's beautiful. In a Max-like sort of way.

It takes her a moment, but Chloe finally manages, "That's perfect."

* * *

 

Max has been fidgeting with the crinkling paper bag in her hands for ten minutes, and even though the transaction is done and done she just keeps making herself more anxious about it. Ordering a woman's custom tuxedo for a swanky ball is much more daunting than running out to pick up her boss's dry cleaning. Also, there's the constant threat of being attacked in broad daylight.

_Stay in the open, stay in sight, in the open and in sight-_

She gasps and nearly wheels around when a warm hand reaches down and tangles with hers, but then a calloused thumb swipes across her ring and she relaxes, is able to smile up at Chloe instead of stare. "Hey."

"Hey," Chloe says, casting a grin in her direction before tugging her forward. She has a white bag in her other hand, and she nods to the one Max is clutching as they walk. "Are we happy?"

The anxiety has cooled off at the sight of Chloe, lazy and careless, and Max exhales, gives a nod that's far more certain than she'd been feeling a moment ago. "Very happy. No one jumped me, and your card went through. The two scariest obstacles, hurdled." Chloe chuckles, and Max goes on, "What about you? Satisfied?"

"Almost never," Chloe says, and turns down a streetway, but before Max can even finish rolling her eyes she continues, "But maybe, this time. Sorry getting the dress took longer than expected, but I think it'll suit you."

Max hadn't even thought about the dress suiting her, she was just worried about whether or not it would fit. "Chloe, you really didn't have to worry about-"

"No, nope," Chloe says, stopping short at a crosswalk and meeting Max's eyes again. Max stops along with her, looking up and a little surprised to see Chloe smiling fondly down at her. "This is your first time doing something like this, right?"

At first Max doesn't even know what she's referring to- wearing a high fashion dress, being in Berlin, accompanying a beautiful secret agent on a whirlwind high stakes mission through Europe. Eventually she decides context clues are enough to conclude, "Going to a ball? Yeah, I've never."

"Right, I figured," Chloe says, and tugs her forward again, past a row of stopped cars. "So even if your friend's still missing and you haven't been able to fully appreciate the beauty of Venice or Vienna or Berlin or whatever and you're stuck with an asshole like me, you at least deserve a shot at a good time at an event like this."

They're onto the parallel sidewalk and a few steps down before Max can think of anything to say- Chloe's still worried about _her_ feelings in the middle of all this mess, with her bruised knuckles still freshly purple and gun tucked under her suit. Max is planning on saying something about her experience of Europe being the last thing either of them should be worried about right now, but instead what comes out of her mouth, knee-jerk, is, "You're not an asshole."

That slows Chloe's pace a little, but Max meets her eyes when she looks back at her, doesn't flinch. Chloe just smiles again, with half her mouth this time. "I think a lot of people might disagree with you. Including you from about two days ago."

"Well, it's not like you don't exhibit asshole behavior sometimes," Max says, matching pace a little easier with Chloe now that she's slowed down, and grinning when she throws back her head and laughs, "trying to kiss me out of my information in the bar, I still can't believe- but you're not one. You've been watching out for me." She can't help smiling. "You just spent forty-five minutes finding a dress for me."

Chloe comes to a complete stop, looks back at Max again, and Max is ready for the one-liner, lowers her eyes just a little so they'll be prepared to roll when the time comes.

Instead, Chloe just says, "It's a pleasure," and when Max looks up again she just smiles at her again, unteasing and sincere. Then she turns back, and starts tugging Max along again.

Max really, really wishes Chloe was making her match a pace too fast for her again, because then she'd at least have an excuse for the heart beating too hard, too fast against her ribcage.

The ball starts at seven, and it's five thirty when they get back to their room, Chloe pensive and Max a little breathless from walking.

As soon as she's closed the door, Chloe says, "I need to teach you to dance."

Max has just collapsed onto one of the armchairs, slouching and kicking off her shoes, and she was about to groan but now she just barely manages to stop herself from falling off the cushion. "What?"

"You need to know how to dance," Chloe says again, reaching into the bag Max had picked up for her and humming in satisfaction, lifting up black fabric in both hands. "As cover. We don't have much time, and you don't have to be great, but you really shouldn't go out there unprepared. Also, you should try on the dress."

She drops the paper bag into Max's lap, and Max goes reaching curiously into it when Chloe reaches out and holds it closed again. She looks up, and Chloe's leaning over her, other hand braced on the armrest of the chair. There's a strange, almost uncertain look in her eyes, then she grins.

"Just… go try it on," she says. "I'll get changed out here, okay?"

"Okay," Max says, as reflex, and Chloe pushes back up, away from her, moving into the space between the bed and the window. Max crosses to the bathroom, catches a glimpse of Chloe shrugging off her jacket before she closes the door.

Dresses. Dancing. Blood on the back of Chloe's knuckles. Is there anything that could happen to make today more stressful?

Uncertain, she places the bag on the bathroom counter and carefully pulls the dress out, unwinding it from its plastic wrap.

The first thing she notices is that it's blue. Her blue, forget-me-not blue, the color of Chloe's hair. Just that, that Chloe remembered, is enough to catch some breath back in Max's throat.

She's never even touched a dress like this before, much less worn one. It must be so expensive. It's tight, smooth satin, floor length and skinny. The skirt is worryingly long, but when Max checks in the bag for the shoes, there's a pair of white heels that looks like they might carry the extra inches.

The skirt is cinched at the waist, gauzed over the solid blue with lacy, tangling flowers. The sleeves hang low, and wide, and after looking at them for a moment Max decides they're probably meant to be worn off the shoulder.

She can't imagine a more gorgeous dress if she tries.

Chloe found this for _her_. Was thinking of her.

Max swallows, and goes to pull it on.

* * *

 

It feels silly to knock on the other side of the bathroom door, but it's probably better than the alternative. "Chloe? You decent?"

"Stupid question," Chloe chirps from the other side, and Max hears some shuffling, Chloe moving closer to the door. "But I am clothed. Come on out, let me see the masterpiece."

Max rolls her shoulders, unsure at the way her skin rubs tight against the satin beneath her shoulder blades. "If you try any cute lines, I'm really gonna punch you," she says warily, wiggling her feet uncertainly in her shoes. "Okay."

She clicks the door open, does her best not to inch out from behind the door and not stride out either. It's a tough line to toe; in the end she just stumbles out, comes to stand in front of Chloe with her hand bunched up by her sides. "Um, thank you for this, it fits really- um?"

Because Chloe's just staring at her, completely and unashamedly agape, eyes darting all across her body before settling back on her face, wide and bright.

"You look _gorgeous_ ," she says, her voice soft and reverent. She smiles a little, lips parted, and huffs a little laugh, looking Max over again. "Max, you're stunning."

The dress baring Max's collarbone is doing very little to help hide the fully body blush she feels climbing up her throat. She swallows. "Thank- thank you."

Chloe's grin goes wider. "Do you like it?"

"Do _I_ like it?" Max repeats, incredulous. "Chloe, it's _so_ beautiful, I can't believe I even get to wear something like this-"

"I think it was made for you," Chloe says, sounding so sincere that Max almost has to double check her expression, make sure it was just a figure of speech. Then Chloe grins all the way, does a little twirl with her index finger. "Spin for me."

Max's eyes widen, and her hands come to clutch at the front of her skirt. "What? Oh, no, that's-"

"Oh, come on," Chloe says, and her expression is so bright, near thrilled, and she comes a little forward, does the twirl motion with her hand again. "Please, Max, I need the full effect."

And Max is going to protest again, feeling enough like a girl in a woman's gown already, but Chloe's positively beaming and she looks nearly heartstopping in the tuxedo Max had picked up for her and maybe they can have just a second of foolishness. She huffs a little, then turns, probably a little too quickly, feels her hair flutter against the bare back of her neck.

Chloe claps when she comes to face her again, delighted. "You're a _goddess_. How do you feel?"

"It fits well," Max says, looking down at herself, then when she meets Chloe's eyes again, "Oh. Um, nervous, mostly."

That softens Chloe's expression, and she nods. "I get it. But don't be. I've got your back. Speaking of, you can take off your shoes. I'm not wearing mine."

She doesn't get it, until Chloe reaches out with one hand, expectant. "Oh. Okay."

Carefully, she kicks off her heels and nudges them off to the side, then takes Chloe's hand. Her grip is light around Max's, and equally so at her waist when the second settles there, brings them close together.

"You can put your hand on my shoulder," Chloe murmurs, breath ruffling Max's bangs. They're both looking down, Max's bare toes peeking out from under her dress. "I'll lead. All you have to do is not stumble too much."

"Tall order," Max mutters, and Chloe laughs. "No, really. I'm two left feet."

When she glances up, Chloe's smile is very close to her eyes. "It won't be so bad," Chloe says. "It's just stepping around. I won't make you do anything to crazy. Maybe dip you. Maybe spin you around. Just- one two three, one two three, one two three-"

And of course Max does stumble when Chloe starts moving them around, tightens her grip on Chloe's hand and shoulder and tries to readjust. Chloe's grip tightens as well, her hand moving farther along Max's waist to encircle her more firmly. Press them closer together.

She's humming. She doesn't even flinch when Max steps on her feet, once, twice. Several times. Just keeps the song going, just keeps stepping along, keeps her hold unfailing on Max's skin.

After twenty minutes, Max has at least stopped stepping on her feet. Mostly.

"One two three," Max whispers, "one two three. Is it going to be faster than this?"

Chloe shakes her head, still humming. "You're doing fine. Just stay close to me. And be ready for the situation to change fast. Like-"

Then suddenly the world goes upside down and Max gasps, both hands coming up to clutch at Chloe's shoulders, heels tipping backward and Chloe's hand solid on her back. It lasts only a moment before Chloe is sweeping her back onto her feet, and Max is back in front of her, giving a short, surprised giggle. "Jeez."

They come back together even closer than before. Max didn't even think that was possible. Their noses touch, Chloe's hand now on the bare skin of her back, Max's hands wound up around her and clutched tight in her shoulders. Max's stomach flips over. Her heart touches too hard against her ribs.

This probably isn't good.

"Jeez," Chloe murmurs back.

Definitely not.

And they're halfway back through movement- Chloe's mouth closed in a smile to start humming again, Max muttering "one two-"- when Chloe's phone beeps.

They both come to a stop, and look down to Chloe's pocket. Then Chloe frowns and reaches for it with the hand on Max's back, keeping their hands held firm together. Max peers at it when she holds it out to inspect, cheek close to Chloe's lapel.

They're both warm, Max flushed and Chloe constant in temperature.

"Okay," Chloe mutters, and shoves it back in her pocket. "Q says our ride will be here in five minutes. Looks like dance practice is over."

Whatever brief confidence Max had gained from going in impromptu circles is immediately snuffed out. "O-okay."

Chloe looks at her, then gives her a smile again, squeezes her hand reassuringly before letting it go. "You'll be great, Max," she says. "Besides, everyone will be too distracted by how beautiful you are to notice if you miss a step."

"Mm," Max says, taking a step back. Feeling light and almost detached with nerves, she watches Chloe toe into her shoes again. "I'd really prefer if no one was looking at me at all."

That just gets Chloe to grin up at her, head tilted and low from where she's slightly knelt. "No chance of that, gorgeous."

Max opens her mouth, originally to protest, but then she falters, suddenly unsure in the face of Chloe's sideways, sweet smile. She loses time, and Chloe looks away again. "You should put your shoes back on. I'm gonna tie my tie, you should do whatever you need to to feel ready."

Her mouth is still open when Chloe straightens up again, and she just manages a slightly shaky, "Okay," before hurrying back into the bathroom. She leaves the door open this time, watches Chloe move around the room behind her in the mirror's reflection.

She's braiding some strands of hair back on one side, checking her makeup uncertainly in the mirror, and she goes to brush the overabundance of blush when she remembers she hasn't put any on.

Chloe knocks twice on the open door as Max is still staring at herself, intently. "All good?"

"All good," Max says faintly, and takes Chloe's arm when it's offered to her.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u gadget for beta'ing! SORRY ophelia and I have school again RIP us so updates might come a little slower than before
> 
> Lobby music: [Kasumi: Stolen Memory Party Music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9MaOIY2DTXo&list=PLgBPyhFHR2Wo4txxnOIH77Zq_X1YBpmAS&index=4%0A)
> 
> First Waltz music: [Pride and Prejudice: Mrs. Darcy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q68QRLGTfxM)
> 
> Slow dance music: [So Close by Jon McLaughlin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ad7ejBn3KSQ)

Chloe feels on top of the world when she exits the elevator with Max on her arm; guests and concierges alike openly stare at the two of them as they stride across the lobby. Today couldn't have been better- she's with _Max_ , who looks breathtaking, especially now. Chloe glances next to her and exhales; God, she'd thought Max had looked stunning even just earlier, but she's blown away with how Max looks now, a little braid tucked into her short, wavy hair, her neck and collarbones bared, thin and white and bird-boned.

The second they open the lobby doors, though, Chloe's attention is entirely averted. She gasps.

She just stands there, frozen, staring at what's in front of her- it's only when Max huffs and reaches into Chloe's pocket to take out her phone that she even notices Brooke calling.

Brooke's gritting her teeth when she pops up on the screen. " _Congratulations_ , Agent Price. R requisitioned you-"

" _My car!"_ Chloe crows, and she leaps forward and throws her arms around the sleek, silver, modern Aston Martin sitting in the driveway. "My fuckin' baby-"

" _No,_ MY baby," Brooke says loudly, and Chloe turns to see Max standing behind her, holding the phone up and rolling her eyes. Brooke continues, "Please, please, for the love of God and all that is holy, do NOT fuck up the car."

"Why would I fuck up my own child, Q," Chloe says, offended.

Brooke leans back in her chair and clasps her hands, staring up at an off-screen ceiling. "Well, Agent Price," Brooke says in an even voice, "You've called the last fifteen company cars 'your baby' and you've blown up three, driven into an ocean or a river at least four, and, hm...annihilated the others so completely that all I got back was a fucking steering wheel."

"C'mon, it's not _that_ bad if R requisitioned me to have this one," Chloe says.

"R requisitioned you to have this one because it's equipped with top-of-the-line dumbass protection," Brooke says. "Bulletproof, has some gadgets on the inside to help you out if you're in a bind. Oh, and, your masks are in there, Agent Price, Miss Caulfield."

The two of them get inside the car, where a small screen lifts up from the console. Max hands Chloe her phone, and the two hear Brooke's voice on the speakers.

"But Agent Price, _do_ remember you have other gadgets besides the car," Brooke says, clearing her throat. Chloe waves a hand dismissively.

"I have my gun and watch, Q, I'm fine," Chloe says, strapping herself in.

"You say that," Brooke says under her breath. "Let me just pay my respects to my child, and then you guys can go." Brooke closes her eyes and clasps her hands in prayer while Chloe just huffs, shoving the key into the ignition. After a moment, Brooke says, "Alright. I'm done praying."

"Gonna pray for me, Q?" Chloe asks, pointing at the glove compartment; Max nods and opens it, finding two masks inside.

"You're a lost cause, Agent Price," Brooke says dryly. "Anyway, Miss Caulfield, please watch out for Agent Price. Good luck, you two." The screen cuts to the black, and the two are left to listen only to the soft rumble of the engine.

"Ready?" Chloe asks, putting her hands on the wheel.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Max says, and Chloe notices how Max is delicately holding one of the masks in her hands; it's shaped like a blue butterfly.

* * *

The grand charity ball is held at one of Berlin's classical buildings, a giant palace that's surrounded with a massive garden; by the time the two arrive, the circular driveway sports an array of cars parked around its perimeter. Chloe gets out of her side first to open Max's door, and Max is staring, open-mouthed, at the colossal Renaissance-styled fountain in front of them, where elegant marble statues and cherubs toss an infinite stream of water into the air.

She pulls on her butterfly mask just as she sees Max putting on an elegant, intricately woven white one.

"Sorry that you couldn't take your camera here, Max," Chloe says, opening the door and offering her arm.

Max takes it, and turns her gaze to the courtyard, where other couples and parties emerge from sleek cars, dressed in formalwear and walking towards the entrance.

"It's fine," Max says, but when Chloe gives her a look, she sighs. "Okay, yeah, I'm sort of sad I couldn't bring it."

The two of them start walking towards the palace, the bright light spilling from the grand set of double doors casting long shadows among the partygoers.

"Why photos?" Chloe asks.

"Like, why do I take photos? Or why do I like photos?"

"Both."

Max takes a moment to consider as the two wait behind a large group. "I...I mean, I appreciate art of all forms, music, painting," she says slowly, "But there's more to photography for me."

"Like what?"

At the doors, Chloe flashes an invitation at the security standing on either side, and she makes a mental note at the earbuds in their ears, the unmistakeable outline of a gun pressing through the fabric of their jackets…

"Well," Max says, completely oblivious, "I take photos because I don't want to forget anything I've seen. Or anyone I've met."

"Like me?" Chloe says, smirking.

"Yeah, like you, Chloe," Max says. "You're really unforgettable."

Chloe's jaw drops, but she pulls herself together and is just about to respond when Max adds, "You're _priceless._ "

She starts giggling, warm and amused, as Chloe groans and rolls her eyes. "How long have you been sitting on that one?"

"A while," Max says, chuckling. "But I'm serious, though. About the photos," she adds quickly.

"Yeah, yeah," Chloe says, and the large group in front of them disperses to reveal a grand lobby just past the entrance, marble columns rising up to a high ceiling, painted with Baroque clouds partnered with tiny cherubs aiming small arrows of love. On either side are massive portraits depicting famous world leaders, equipped with swords and donning military uniforms. In a corner at the far end sits a small quartet of musicians, and the sounds of violins and a piano float through the air.

Next to Chloe, she hears Max's small intake of breath. It makes her do a double take, checking for danger, but Max's eyes are just roving across the artwork, the architecture, stunned and pleased and pretty.

"Tell me more about your photos," Chloe says as they wade among the people standing idly around; at the end of the long hall, she can see a large set of double doors opening up into the ballroom.

"Um, well," Max says, and Chloe glances down to see Max instinctively reaching at her side- when she doesn't find her camera there, she huffs. "Photos just mean a lot to me. They're proof, you know? Of things you did. That you were there. That _I_ was there. That what happened was _real_ , you know?"

"Yeah," Chloe says, scanning the room as they walk down the hall. Security's standing at the walls every few feet. Shit. This place is fucking air-tight. Glancing down at her watch, she briefly considers how effective it'd be here; no, probably bad idea. Too many civilians. Blast radius would cause too much damage. She'll need to stealth this one; find Marsh, get out quietly.

"Everyone wants their life to mean something, right?" Max goes on, slightly distracted, fingers still clutching at Chloe's arm. "And photos make it seem like it does. Like it's worth recording. Remembering. You know, it's simple, it's just- I don't want to be forgotten."

Chloe's opened her mouth to say that Max is unforgettable when they pass through the set of double doors, and Max gasps, pressing close to Chloe and cutting her off.

In front of them lies an indoor balcony, with polished marble floors that form a large staircase that descends onto the ballroom floor, a wide and spacious space that's lined along the walls with tables and chairs; Max lets go of her arm and walks forward, hand reaching for the massive amount of roses that line the balustrades along the balcony and stairs.

Red and white roses rest in large bouquets, vivid and vibrant against the marble and the bright lights emanating from the glass chandeliers on the ceiling.

"Oh, Chloe," Max breathes, one hand held out to gently brush the petals of a rose, "Look at how beautiful this is."

Oh, Max. "But you-"

Before Chloe can say anything else, Max just turns to her and rolls her eyes. " _Don't_. Just smile and nod."

Chloe bursts out laughing, and that gets Max to giggle a little too. For a moment, the two gaze at each other, and again Chloe can't help but think about how beautiful Max is, lovely and wonderful and brave and bold all at once.

"If I can't give you a line, then at least let me give you one rose," Chloe says, reaching out and plucking out a white rose; Max doesn't move away when Chloe gently slides the rose above Max's ear, and her hand stays close to Max's cheek for a moment longer before she pulls it away.

Max is stunning, and it takes Chloe's breath away when she says softly, "Thank you, Chloe."

Chloe offers her arm again, and Max takes it; the two turn and gaze out at the ballroom beneath them and see small groups of people wading and flowing through each other, champagne glasses held aloft.

Chloe spots a vivid, red dress among the crowd, and it waves to her, almost impatiently.

"Max, look, Chase is here," Chloe says, and she tugs Max along down the stairs, not noticing the way Max's hand tightens a little on her arm.

Victoria and Taylor stand close together near one of the windows, Victoria donning a brilliant, strapless red dress with Taylor wearing a tight-fitting black one. Chloe's not surprised to see them wearing masks that glisten with rubies and diamonds and exotic feathers; only Chase would go all out at a place like this.

"Miss Chase, Miss Christensen, what a surprise," Chloe says, while Max gives a cool "hello."

"Mrs. and Mrs. Price," Victoria says, giving them both once-overs, "It's nice to see that you both could make it. Taylor, sweetie, go get us some drinks."

Taylor nods and makes to move away, but then Victoria grabs her hand and clears her throat; Taylor turns, only to see Victoria giving her an expectant look.

"God, Victoria," Taylor sighs, and she leans forward and gives Victoria a quick peck on the lips before walking away. Victoria watches after her until she disappears into the crowd, and then turns her attention back to Chloe and Max.

"You both look amazing, by the way," Victoria says, a wry smile on her face. "Especially you, Maxine," and she winks at Max, who only shifts closer to Chloe, eyes narrowed.

"Max, not Maxine," she says coolly, but she adds, "Thank you."

Chloe glances around them; so far, all the people she's mentally profiled have been wealthy business owners or embezzling bureaucrats and harried servants, but she hasn't spotted Hayden Jones, man with the feather mask.

"You happen to see any of my friends here, Miss Chase?" Chloe asks. "One's wearing a black mask, blue feathers. Haven't had drinks with him in a while."

To Chloe's disappointment, Chase shakes her head. "I unfortunately haven't met any of your friends." She grins, then goes on, "Is my company not sufficient?" and Chloe feels Max stiffen next to her.

Chloe clears her throat. "Actually, some of my friends are interested in selling their assets tonight. Was wondering if you had any idea of what their insurance might be like."

Victoria crosses her arms, glances around at the motionless security suits standing along the walls. "Standard protocol, I'd assume."

Great. Everyone has a fucking weapon. So much for gun control.

Taylor comes back at that moment with champagne glasses, and Victoria takes a sip of hers before saying, "I believe the dancing will start soon, so I'll let you two have your time together."

Chloe's surprised when Max says, "Thank you, Miss Chase," and she starts to tug Chloe away; but Chloe takes a moment to tell Victoria, "I know some people get excited at the things my friends are selling, so I'd call in for your better friends when things really start going."

Victoria smirks and swirls the glass in her hand. "You really do do things with a bang, Mrs. Price, but sure. I'll let them know."

With that final word, Chloe gives a farewell nod to Taylor before Max brings her away.

* * *

For a little bit after that, Chloe notices that Max keeps her gaze fixed on her champagne glass, face pensive as she occasionally glances up as they wade through the ballroom. Chloe remarks every now and then on some of the beautiful masks that some people are wearing - a flamboyant peacock mask, a radiant mask that resembles a morning sun, a mask that's bejeweled with all kinds of gems. Max answers with brief responses, and Chloe gets the feeling that Max is somewhere other than the ballroom.

She gets the two of them to hover next to a large bar by one side of the room, but shakes her head at the bartender. Max still holds onto her arm, her other hand delicately gripping the stem of the champagne glass, and Chloe feels the strong urge to tuck Max's hair behind her ear. Max looks so stunning tonight, but the almost sad look on her face makes Chloe's heart ache.

"Hey, don't look so sad," Chloe says softly, reaching up and clinking her glass against Max's. "Cheers."

Max offers her a small, tentative smile, and clinks her glass against Chloe's as well. "Cheers, Chloe."

Just then, the sounds of a soft and gentle piano float over the crowd, and the chandeliers dim a little as a quartet of strings join in, and couples begin to drift onto the ballroom floor.

Chloe looks back to see Max in the muted light, and even then her clear blue eyes are just as brilliant as her dress, bright and clear and wonderful; but then Max looks away from the dance floor, turning her pensive gaze back to her champagne glass, like a light inside her has dimmed.

Maybe it's time for a little dancing to cheer Max up.

Chloe leans in, nose just brushing the shell of Max's ear as she whispers, "Would you care for a dance, Mrs. Bond?"

She pulls away to see Max, her mouth slightly parted, eyes wide, but then her hand slides into Chloe's offered one. "Yeah- Yes, I would."

They turn towards each other, Chloe lightly settling her hand on Max's hip, Max reaching up and placing her hand on Chloe's shoulder; the first few steps go fine, the two of them smoothly gliding across the floor, but the faraway look in Max's eyes doesn't quite disappear.

"Hey," Chloe says softly, and Max's gaze flicks up to her. "I meant it when I said I wanted you to have a good time here. What's up?"

They go through another few steps, and Max sighs. "I was just thinking about if- when- we find Kate, that this," she says, looking around them, and then at Chloe, "that this is really going to be over."

Chloe's stomach does a little flip, because it sounds like Max doesn't want this to end. And Chloe knows for certain that she doesn't want this to end, doesn't want to go back to the days of endless solo work, bloody and empty and just kind of lonely.

"Hey, hey," Chloe says, and she gently guides them away from a stumbling pair of men next to them, "It's not goodbye just yet, Max."

Chloe can't help but notice how Max's lips part slightly, her face so open and surprised, as if she'd been expecting Chloe to say something else. Instead, Max says, "I know, but...I really want you to know that I did have a good time. And I still am," she adds as the two of them smoothly change directions of their waltz.

Chloe's chest feels a little lighter and looser when she exhales, and she pauses to twirl Max around; the ends of Max's dress splay out in a blur of blue as she spins, and then they're looking at each other again as the sounds of strings play a gentle melody of soft highs and lows.

Nothing's ever felt more real than the comforting weight of Max's hand in hers, but nothing's ever felt more _unreal_ than the soft beauty of Max's face so close to hers.

It's like last night, like everything inside her has been lit up, and she feels more alive than she has in years; the music in the air tugging at her heartstrings, chords and melodies filling her chest, like something finally feels right.

Somehow, Max is thinking the same thing, because she says softly, "This all just feels so surreal."

"In a good way or in a bad way?" Chloe murmurs, never taking her gaze away from Max's.

Max gives Chloe a small, amused smile. "You could say in every way."

Chloe tries to stifle her burst of laughter, and she gets a few looks from nearby couples, but it doesn't matter because the smile on Max's face becomes more full.

"I'm not saying all of it was bad," Max says. "I mean, bad things just...kind of come with this kind of thing."

As much as Chloe hates to admit it, Max is right, and she nods.

"I've always wanted my life to be like a story, like an adventure," Max says, and she blushes a little as she continues, "Superheroes and people saving the world."

"So you take photos to show that your life _is_ an adventure," Chloe says, and Max nods.

"That's how it started. But, like, I'm not really a kid anymore," Max says as the two waltz around the edge of the dance floor. "I was starting to think all that stuff, like action and romance and thrills were only in movies, but-"

And she pauses to look around them, to look at the other couples in tailored suits and brilliant dresses and extravagant masks all dancing in a ballroom inside a palace fit for royalty.

Max turns her gaze back to Chloe, and again, _again_ , it's those blue eyes that make Chloe forget to breathe as Max says, "But then this happened and _you_ showed up and-"

Max abruptly stops, her cheeks going red, and Chloe notices their faces are so close, so achingly close, but she doesn't close the distance and instead she says quietly, "Is this what you thought an adventure would be, then?"

The people around them seem to disappear, and it's like the world becomes the two of them, just Max and Chloe waltzing in a ballroom that's theirs, a time and place and a memory that only they can keep.

Max shakes her head. "No, not really," she says, but before Chloe can feel disappointed she continues, "That's okay, though."

The music comes to a slow stop, fading into a quietness, and then they're back in reality, the other couples around them beginning to reach the end of their own waltzes.

When the two of them come to a standstill, Max says, "Things never go the way you expect they will. And that's not a bad thing."

Chloe thinks back to that fateful day in the bar; the irritated phone call to R, the grudging acceptance to bring Max along.

"Yeah," Chloe says slowly. "It definitely isn't."

* * *

Maybe it was the champagne, or maybe it's just how close they are together, but Max feels a little braver, a little more bold. Or maybe it's her dress, the grand ballroom, her beautiful date that makes Max unafraid, fearless.

So when Chloe begins to move away, hand sliding out of her own and a much slower kind of music begins to play, she tightens her hold on Chloe's hand and shoulder and says, "Wait."

Above them, the chandeliers begin to dim, and sounds of a piano softly drift over the ballroom; just one more dance couldn't hurt.

Chloe raises her eyebrows, but stops in place. "What?"

"Would you care for another dance, Mrs. Bond?" Max asks, and she wishes she could take a photo of Chloe's face, slack with surprise and wide-eyed for a split second before she regains her composure.

"Of course," Chloe says, grinning, and she steps back in close, putting her hand back on Max's waist.

It's a much slower song than before, not a waltz but something closer to a dance meant for… them, maybe.

Chloe murmurs in her ear, "The steps are the same, just a little slower. Might spin you a few times."

Max nods, heart beating a little too loudly inside her chest, because with the dimmed lighting and the man singing on the stage, low voiced, it's a little hard not to be enchanted by how the night's been going. Everything feels so magical and wonderful and with Chloe here, dancing and going on high-stakes missions doesn't seem so bad.

She tries her best not to think that it might be their last night together.

"What are you thinking now, Max?" Chloe says quietly, and the brilliance of her butterfly mask combined with the brightness of her blue eyes takes Max's breath away, and she glances away for a second, at the other couples moving in slow circles.

"Just...what'll happen after all this," Max says, and she doesn't meet Chloe's eye, instead talks to her tie. "Like I know we talked about it before, but just…"

She trails away, not really sure of how to finish her sentence, because she definitely can't tell Chloe she wants to see Chloe again, because she shouldn't think that or feel that way- Chloe's been to tons of balls like this, had tons of girls on her arm and in her bed.

Max isn't any different.

"Things will be normal for you again," Chloe says, and Max looks up to see Chloe serious. "You won't have to deal with the mob or anything. Or me, for that matter."

Max winces a little when Chloe cracks a half-hearted smile, and her heart aches in knowing that Chloe believes that Max doesn't want to be here with her now, dancing with her now.

"You're not bad company, Chloe," Max says, and she means it. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't believe that."

Chloe's eyes go wide when she says that, and for the first time that night, Chloe missteps and she has to glance down to get her footing back; it gives Max a chance to think of something to say next.

"You probably can't tell me, but what are you really going to do after all this is done, Chloe?" Max asks, and Chloe glances back up at her.

"Um," Chloe starts, and she blinks once. "I...sometimes I get a break before the next thing."

"What do you do on your breaks?" Max asks, and a spark of hope lights itself inside her chest, and she has to fight to dim it back down to the level of the lights above them. Chloe's an _agent_ , for Christ's sake. She can't just go hanging out with people, she's important and gorgeous and-

"Not a lot of things," Chloe chuckles, and she leans her head in a little, their faces now so close that their noses could brush. "Boring stuff like bars, mostly. But what about you? You told me you didn't have anyone waiting for you back home."

_Every_ time, she's caught off guard when Chloe actually remembers details from their conversations, how she picks up on small things about Max's uneventful and unimaginative life.

"No, there's no one back home," Max repeats slowly. It's a little distracting how Chloe's so close, how the singer in the background is mentioning things about happy ends and how the piano is joining a crescendo of strings. "Just boring stuff, work and doctor's appointments and-"

"There's got to be more than that," Chloe says, and she reaches a hand out to spin Max; when the come back in, they're closer than before; noses touching, Max's arms around Chloe's shoulders and Chloe's hand resting gently on her bare back, the other on her waist. In Max's ear, Chloe murmurs, "Someone as amazing as you can't possibly live a _totally_ boring life."

Their cheeks are touching. They're pressed close together.

Closing her eyes for a moment, Max does everything she can to remember this moment, just her and Chloe and no one else; Chloe's cheek warm against hers, her hands light against the fabric of her dress.

Max pulls away, only a little, just so she can meet Chloe's eyes and smell the flicker of champagne on Chloe's breath.

"I've never met anyone as exciting as you," Max says softly.

"Me neither," Chloe murmurs, and she leans in.

A burst of laughter suddenly comes from a spot off the dance floor, and Max's eyes instinctively flick over to its source; behind a trio of giggling women walks out a servant, a man wearing a mask with _blue feathers_.

She turns her head just as Chloe's lips graze the corner of her mouth, but she does her best to try and _focus_ and breathes, "Chloe, _Chloe_ -"

"Hm?" Chloe pulls away a little, brow furrowed.

"There, there's Hayden!" Max says a little more urgently, and feels Chloe's irritated huff of breath against her face.

Chloe moves away slightly, turning her gaze to something on the other side of the room. "Where, exactly?"

Max keeps her eyes on Hayden as he trails between tables, offering glasses of champagne. "Um, 11 o'clock, by some tables by the wall, he's heading towards a large table with food on it right now."

"Okay, alright," Chloe says, adopting a resigned, business-like tone. "I'm going to go follow him, you go get the car in case we need to do a quick escape."

Just then, the singer finishes on a long, drawn out note, and the piano plays a few more notes before it too fades into silence, and the ballroom begins to clap and echo with applause. Around them, couples drift off of the dance floor, back to mingling with the crowds around the tables; a perfect opportunity for the two of them to split up.

"Okay," Max says, and Chloe takes her hands off of her, turning already, gaze flickering around the room for Hayden- but a burst of boldness takes over Max, and again she says, "Wait."

The same thing happens from before, back when Chloe went to go get the dress earlier; Chloe turns on her heel, face questioning.

People are brushing past them now. It's now or never-

Max stands up on her toes and presses a quick kiss to Chloe's cheek, cusps her face with one hand then uses the other to gently push Chloe away, towards Hayden.

"Good luck," Max says, taking a step back; Chloe stares at her for a second, mouth agape, before she gives a quick nod and turns away.

"Come back safe," Max whispers, tearing her gaze away from Chloe's tall form before she moves with the crowd. The lights overhead begin to brighten as well, and Max shakes her head a little, trying to clear it as the sounds of chatter and clinking glasses swell inside the ballroom.

What the hell is she _doing_?

A passing waiter comes by with a tray full of shot glasses, and Max doesn't hesitate to pick one up and down it, wincing when the fire down her throat feels a lot like a bucket of cold water to the face.

She needs to focus on the mission. Find the car. Get in the car. Wait for Chloe.

But even as she exits the palace and feels the cool evening air on her face, Max can't shake the feeling of warmth at the small of her back, the corner of her mouth.

* * *

When Chloe turns away from Max and starts walking, towards Hayden, she reaches a hand up to her cheek and presses the tips of her fingers softly against her face. It'd been so brief, so short, but it's _there_.

"Excuse me," Chloe says, tapping Hayden on the shoulder as he's picking up a few champagne glasses from a table to put on the platter on his hand. "I'm looking for the dark room, I was wondering if you'd be able to point me the right way."

Hayden pauses when she says 'dark room,' and then stands up fully and flashes her a bright smile, putting his tray of drinks down. "Of course, miss. Follow me."

Nice. That was easy.

Chloe follows Hayden through the crowds, around tables and other servants bearing trays of food and drink. Eventually, he comes to a stop in front of one of many ceiling-length curtains along the walls and clears his throat.

He jerks his head at the curtain, reaching one hand out to quickly pull it to the side. "Through here, miss."

Chloe steps through it, eyes squinting in the dimness of the hallway, and then Hayden steps around her to walk in front of her again, the curtain sliding back over the opening and muffling the noise of the party back in the ballroom.

"At the end of this hallway will be the auction room," Hayden says, and Chloe glances past him and down the hallway; looks like there's a few doors here and there, and at the far end is a set of elegant double doors, ornate golden patterns decorating its surface. "You'll be given a sign with your number on it when you enter the room, and with all auctions, simply raise your sign to bid."

Chloe gives a noncommittal grunt in response. Almost to the end of the hallway…

"I hope you en-" Hayden's words are suddenly cut off when Chloe throws her arm around his neck; he struggles, grunting and clawing at her arm, but finally he sags to the floor, and Chloe grabs his arm to pick him up and throw him over her shoulder.

She tries a few of the hallway doors until she finds a small closet, shoving him inside before grabbing a roll of duct tape and binding his arms and feet together, and then slapping a piece of tape over his mouth. That should hold him. For now.

She rummages around in his pockets for anything useful; just a few bills, a piece of paper with the passcode on it ("what a dumbass," Chloe says under her breath), and a box of cigarettes. She pockets that, and then gets up and heads towards the set of double doors, checking her watch; she and Max have been here for about an hour, which means the auction will probably start soon.

Chloe opens the door, and a man at her left gives her a nod and hands her a sign to hold. She nods back, glancing around the room; security in every corner. This time, the suits haven't bothered to hide their guns sitting in holsters at their waists.

Sitting down, Chloe takes a deep breath and adjusts her suit jacket. She can take multiple unarmed men at once, but when it's a whole room of hired guns… not as simple. Her best bet will be to just try and bid the most on Kate when she comes out, grab her once the auction's over, and speed out. Easy enough. Avoids shooting and blowing things up.

Around her, other people take their seats among the rows of chairs, murmuring quietly to each other and adjusting the masks on their faces; Chloe spots a crow, a panther, a bear, their masks completely covering their entire face. Right. They don't want it to be known that they're into this fucked up shit.

In the front of the room lies a small stage, bright spotlights shining onto its wooden surface, and a short, weaselly-looking kind of man sidles up to the podium. "We'll be starting the auction shortly," he says into a mic, and the people around Chloe shift in their seats.

All right. Time to focus.

First girl that comes up isn't Kate, just a red-haired teenage girl that looks frightened out of her mind. Chloe slowly reaches into her pocket, texts a short message to Victoria; the police should start making their way to the ball _now_.

Second girl isn't Kate. Blonde hair, but definitely doesn't match Kate's picture.

Then the third comes, and the people around her raise their signs; then another girl, and another, and another, and _still_ no Kate Marsh.

Underneath her mask, Chloe scowls. Goddamnit. The longer this takes, the longer she'll be away from Max…

More girls come up onto the stage, all beautiful and all _young_ , and murmuring and whispering begins to permeate the rows of chairs, men and women admiring and coveting things that shouldn't be theirs. Chloe's considering ways to get up and figure out where the girls are being held when she hears quiet words behind her that suddenly sharpen her focus.

"Boss isn't gonna be happy about the numbers this week," says a low voice, and Chloe turns her head just slightly to see out of the corner of her eye two suits along the walls, standing close together. "You know he's gonna fuckin' rip us apart."

Chloe sits stock still, trying as hard as she can to listen.

"Who cares? He ain't even here anyway," says a different voice. "Just fucking packed up with his little church girl and headed to Paris."

_Church girl_.

Slowly turning her gaze up onto the stage, Chloe pieces together everything at once. Kate isn't _here_.

"Shit, hold on, got a message," one of the voices says behind her. There's a moment of silence, and then suddenly a panicked, "Shit, man, shit!"

What? Shit what?

"What?" the other mutters, and there's a brief pause before suddenly they're both swearing under their breaths.

What? What the fuck is it?

"Fuck, _Nathan's_ here," one of them breathes, and Chloe hears the unmistakable sound of fear, absolute terror in his voice.

" _What?_ For what? We didn't do anything!"

Chloe's heart pounds inside her chest. Nathan. That name was in Kate's bible.

"Shit, dude, I don't fuckin' know-"

One of the curtains on the stage abruptly makes a loud tearing sound and Chloe snaps her gaze to it, ignoring the gasps of shock around her; a man in a unkempt suit steps out onto the stage, short brown hair greased to the side, almost windswept- but it's the furious scowl that contorts his face that suddenly has Chloe on high alert.

He turns his gaze to her, and the gun in his hand is pointing straight at her before she even has time to think.

_Fuck-_

She's off the chair when he fires, but the bullet careens straight into her right shoulder and she's thrown backward into the row of chairs behind her, stumbling and fighting back the pain that twists and blinds her senses for a second, blinding hot and searing.

There's the sound of a second bullet, closer to her head this time, and she barely manages to sprint towards the door before another one grazes her arm.

She hurls down the hallway, whipping her own gun out of her holster as she hears screams and panicked shouts behind her- at the end, though, the curtain whips open to reveal more suits, and Chloe swears before she throws open a door to her right and sprints into another long hallway.

A trail of red begins to warm her burning skin, staining her suit jacket a darker black, and she grits her teeth and chances a glance behind her. That same man- Nathan- is still roaring and sprinting after her, wild and red-eyed.

She ducks as bullets whizz past her, and she fires a few behind her as well; a loud, strangled cry makes her think she's landed one shot when she throws herself at a door to her left, throwing it open and seeing a flight of stairs ahead of her.

Panting, hoarse breaths clawing at her throat, Chloe dashes up the stairs, throwing the door open to reveal a long hallway, wall to her left and tall windows to her right, black shadows cast on the ground, illuminated by the silver moon outside.

The hallway's too long for her to run down it fast enough to get to the door at the end. There's no cover. She checks her gun. Two bullets left. Enough to take down two, but not enough to take down all of them. Can't fight them with a shot shoulder, either. And even if she tries using her watch to take all of them out, it'd take a full minute to explode.

She glances out the window, sees just below the circular driveway, lined by bushes and trees and the fountain in the center. If she takes a step forward, she can _just_ see the silver of her Aston Martin…

She hears Nathan and other suits running up the staircase. Shit. Fuck.

Chloe rushes forward and shields her face with her arms and jumps just as she smashes through the window.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long guys, Hannah and I have school so it's hard to find free time to write! Thanks for sticking with us for so long though.

She falls with the glass, fragments and pieces spiraling around her; a moment, a second, a millisecond, short and brief and sudden, but in it she glimpses Nathan's contorted face and bared teeth, reflected back at her in a shard that just barely misses grazing her eye. He shifts forward and the glass rotates just enough for her to see a flash of him bracing one foot against the carpet of the palace.

Chloe collides into the hood of the car, left side of her body slamming into the metal, and she bites her tongue against the explosion of pain that spirals through her right shoulder. Noise rains on her just as the glass does, and she hears screams and shouts from the entrance of the palace, and maybe one of them had been Max's from inside the car-

Thrusting herself off the hood, rumbling with the sound of the engine, and hurling around to the passenger side, Chloe flings the door open and throws herself inside. Now, sirens in the distance.

Pain, pain, a lot of pain in her shoulder but she hears Max say in a panicked voice, " _Chloe-"_

" _Drive, Max, drive!"_ Chloe hisses through her teeth, and maybe that snaps Max out of her fear because she slams her foot on the pedal just as they hear a loud _thump_ on the trunk of the car as tires screech against the ground.

A glance in the rearview mirror and Nathan's swearing as their car jerks away, his face livid and ferocious; he loses his hold on the smooth metal, stumbling as he regains his balance on the driveway.

" _Holy shit!"_ Max shrieks, but her foot stays on the pedal. "We just hit someone-"

"No, no, it's good we hit him," Chloe says quickly, and now Nathan's shouting something at a terrified couple standing next to a Maserati behind him-

" _Chloe_ , what the _fuck_ is happening-"

"No time to explain," she pants, eyes fixed on the sideview mirror; Nathan's grand theft auto'd his way into the Maserati. "Just-"

" _Drive,"_ says Dana's voice on the speakers, and the small screen on the dashboard rises up again to show Dana calmly painting her nails. "Yeah, that's one of Chloe's favorite lines."

Max swerves their car around fleeing partygoers, and gets them out onto the main street in front of the palace; Chloe reaches into the glove compartment and reloads her gun with one of the spare magazines. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees police cars and armored trucks zooming down the other side of the street, flashing red and blue while white shines above them from helicopters dropping the glare of spotlights on the entrance of the palace.

"W-what happened, where's _Kate?"_ Max asks hoarsely, and Chloe leans back in her seat to see in the rearview mirror a Maserati skidding out of the entrance of the driveway and making a beeline towards them.

"Not there," Chloe says, gripping her gun hard in her hand. "She's been taken to Paris. Get us further into the city, we might be able to lose him-"

"Lose _who?_ "

"Nathan, the guy in Kate's journal," Chloe says, and she shifts in her seat, one finger hovering over the button to lower the window.

"You two are really making a scene," Dana interjects, and the screen changes to a German newscaster almost tripping over her words as shaking cameras swarmed the palace, shots of panicked guests and helicopter views describing the chaos unfolding from Berlin's largest charity ball.

"Thanks, Dana," Chloe says, and Dana adds a cheerful, "You're welcome!" in the middle of the newscaster speed reciting lines about trafficked girls, and a policeman on the screen throws his hand over the camera.

Max manages to avoid most of the cop cars, and she gets them out from the larger, suburban roads leading out to the palace, and soon the city rises up to meet them, taller and crammed buildings squeezing the roads into thin strips; it's late evening and the only other cars on the street are parked in perfect lines along the sides but Chloe feels the car slowing-

" _Max,_ do NOT slow the car down," Chloe says, and she glances at the rearview mirror to see Nathan getting dangerously closer.

"I don't want to hit-"

"There's no one _to_ hit, just keep driving, make sharp turns, I'll try and get him off us," Chloe barks, and Dana pops back onto the screen, admiring one of her hands, nails painted a beautiful red.

Nathan seems to have had the same idea as Chloe, and when she twists in her seat she hears gunshots and sees bullets ricocheting off the glass and metal of their car.

"He's fucking _shooting_ at us!" Max says, high-pitched and terrified, and Chloe can see in the reflection of the window as it lowers just how white Max's knuckles are as she grips the steering wheel.

"I know," Chloe says, and she waits for a pause in Nathan's gunshots before firing off a volley of her own, thrusting her gun out the window and pulling the trigger as fast as she can. She swears under her breath when the bullets bounce harmlessly off Nathan's front windshield. Fuck. Of course every rich asshole in Germany has bulletproof cars.

Chloe doesn't miss his smug grin either in the brief flash of a streetlight. Jackass.

"Looks like you'll need more firepower," Dana says, and Chloe grips the armrest as Max jerks the steering wheel and the car skids along the ground, tires screeching as they veer sharply around a corner and down another tight alleyway.

Firepower...Chloe glances down at her watch.

The screen splits to show Dana on one side and an irritated Brooke on the other. "Dana tells me you're in a bind," Brooke says, pushing her glasses up her nose.

"Yeah, no shit," Max huffs, and she makes a sharp left at the alley's end, Chloe gritting her teeth as her right shoulder knocks into the seat.

"Might have an idea," Chloe says, biting on a corner of her lip. It'd mean having to lift herself outside the window a little...But that'll be a last resort. "But Brooke, tell us what you got."

"And do it _fast_ , please," Max says through gritted teeth, and she floors it, their car zooming out to a wide road, buildings and lights blurring past them.

If she can't shoot through the glass, maybe she can shoot at the tires. "Brooke, tell Max what to do, I'll work on getting him to slow down," Chloe commands, and Brooke nods as Chloe waits for Nathan's next few rounds to ricochet harmlessly off the car.

As Chloe fires one-handed at Nathan's Maserati, Brooke says quickly, "Middle panel, below the screen, there's a few buttons - try the top left button, should have some fire that might help!"

Leaning back in her seat, Chloe hears the whizz of a bullet zooming past her window just as Max slams her finger on the button.

Their cars escape out into a wide plaza, a massive roundabout that has Max slamming her foot on the brakes and gripping the steering wheel as the car skids across the pavement; behind them, bursts of flame erupt from the rear of their car just as Nathan's car comes up behind them.

"Oh, _nice!"_ Chloe crows at the same time Max screeches, " _Who puts flamethrowers on cars-"_

Fire grips and clings to the hood of Nathan's Maserati, and he mouths several curses, swerving his car left and right to try and put out the flames. He falls behind, slightly- but not enough to lose him.

"Nice, that worked," Brooke says, shuffling a few papers.

"To answer your question Max, Brooke has a thing for fire," Dana says, delicately painting the nails on her other hand as Max slams her foot on the pedal, thrusting their car forward down another wide street.

Brooke, indignant, sputters, " _I_ have a thing for fire? That's Chloe!"

"I hate this, I hate this," Max says under her breath, and if it weren't for Nathan's expression reaching satanic levels of fury and his seemingly unending number of bullets, Chloe would probably chuckle. Probably.

As the two of them zoom down another street of Berlin, Nathan keeps on their tail, the fires on his car sputtering away as he fires another barrage of bullets. But he's a little farther now…

"Wait, wait," Max say suddenly, and Chloe diverts her attention from the sideview mirror long enough to glance at her and ask, "What?"

"Why am I the one driving? Why can't you drive?" Max asks, abruptly swerving them down a street lined with compact houses filed neatly in a line. "I _hate_ driving-"

"You two sure sound like an old married couple," Dana says.

Ignoring her, Chloe says, "What, you just wanna park the car and switch places, I'm sure Nathan's gonna let-"

Chloe's attention snaps to the side view mirror when a bullet embeds itself right in the center, crackling the reflection into pieces that show her Nathan catching up from different angles. Shit.

"Just keep driving," Chloe finishes as she reloads her gun (Max pulls a face) and at Brooke, she asks, "Anything else that can help us?"

"Yeah, third button from the right should be-" Brooke starts, but then Dana abruptly cuts in, " _Max_ , take a left in about five seconds."

"A left? But that's a market up ahead-"

Chloe gets it. "Drive through the market," she commands. "We can lose-"

"You want me to just _run over_ people's livelihoods-"

" _Please_ , Max!" Chloe says, and five seconds have already passed and Chloe meets Max's eyes with her own, blue on blue, focus and fear; Max's jaw goes tight, and the car turns left.

The car rumbles down a small flight of stairs, and Chloe almost bites her tongue as the shaking jars her shoulder; adrenaline has her heart pounding as they slam down onto flat ground, and then Max is swerving her way through a maze of stalls.

" _Third button from right_ ," Brooke repeats loudly over the chaotic explosions of noise as they collide into corners of stalls, sending wood and splinters showering over the windows; behind them, Nathan's doing the same, hurling his car through stall after stall, throwing up myriads of pieces of tables and planks.

"What does-"

"It'll help! The car can shoot too!" Brooke says, and Max slams the button with her fist as Chloe tries to fire another volley of bullets through the storm of debris.

As she jerks her hand back inside as Nathan's bullets ricochet off the rear of the car, she hears an alert _beep_ ; beneath Brooke and Dana pops up a tiny warning in red.

_NO BULLETS LOADED_

"Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me," Chloe says just as Max throws a hand up in the air in exasperation.

Brooke hurriedly flips through a stack of papers. "Crap, I forgot to load the car."

Max veers the car around a tree, and then the car plunks down onto another wide area filled with stalls huddled close together, small street lamps glowing softly amidst the excessive chaos boiling beneath them as Max squeaks when the car barrels and rips through a stall's support beams. Nathan's not faring much better, veering left and right as his windshield wipers frantically try to whip away the wooden debris. This is going great.

"How could you just _forget_ to load the car," Chloe barks, glaring at the screen. "What the fuck?"

"Okay, _shit_ , sorry, R just spur of the moment decided to give the car to you instead of 009," Brooke retorts, crossing her arms.

A loud crackling sound next to them and then a sign plasters itself onto the front windshield, and while Max fumbles for the wipers, Chloe glances at the sign and sees a happy smiley face grinning back at her.

Dana holds her hand up to her face, inspecting it closely with narrow eyes. "If you drive down the marketplace a bit more, there should be a few tunnels you could drive through."

Max nods, and Chloe has to grip the armrest as Max floors it, sending them zooming down an clear lane; she slams the brakes when they hit the street, the two of them skidding along the asphalt and Chloe grits her teeth as the car jerks forward towards a tunnel. She can't tell how much she's bled by now, but her shirt and jacket feel soaked, warm. They need to end this. Soon.

They're well into the tunnel when Nathan finally bursts out onto the street as well, his car wheeling around in a circle before it takes off after them. He's farther, now, but still on their tail.

Chloe glances at her watch.

"Okay, what now, the tunnel's completely open," Max says.

Brooke pipes up, "Second button from the right. I think that's something that might lighten things up."

"I hope it's more fire," Chloe says as Max presses the button.

Chloe doesn't know what she was expecting, and clearly Max doesn't know either because the speakers suddenly blare _Careless Whisper_ , the two of the jumping in their seats as the saxophone's blaring noise echoes through Chloe's open window and into the tunnel.

" _What the fuck, Brooke! What the actual fuck!"_ Chloe shouts above the music, and she waves Max's hand away from the console, thrusting a finger at the wheel before fumbling the buttons on the panel to figure out how to stop the smooth jazz from playing.

The tunnel becomes a gray blur around them as they speed down it, lights from the walls flickering past them and briefly lighting the two of them, Max, pale and stressed, and Chloe, irritate and pissed as she punches the console and gets the jazz to stop at a rising crescendo.

Dana's fallen back on her chair, wheezing with laughter, wiping the tears from her eyes with the heel of her palm as she chokes with hysterics; Brooke, meanwhile, scowls, hands thrown up in defense.

" _Lighten things up?"_ Chloe seethes, and Brooke shoots back, "Ok, I tried, alright, I tried!"

"Tried- okay, you know what, I'm just gonna do this myself," Chloe says, and she leans back in her seat, triggering the safety on her gun and placing it on the ground before she begins unstrapping her watch from her wrist.

"W-wait, what are you going to do?" Max asks nervously, glancing at Chloe.

"Giving Nathan a test of his own medicine," Chloe says, and she meets Max's eyes again as she presses the button on the side of the Rolex. "Keep driving."

"Okay, but-"

She pauses, make sure she hears Nathan fire off another volley of bullets, before she lifts herself out of the window, half-in and half-out of the car and she hears Max shriek behind her; gripping the watch in her left hand, Chloe hurls it at Nathan's car.

It hits the windshield and then slides harmlessly down into a gap leading into the engine.

She can see Nathan bursting out with laughter, and she ducks back inside. "Okay, we just need to keep him off of us for a minute, just _one_ minute and then he should be out."

" _Chloe!_ Holy shit, you could've just been fucking shot-"

"Max, I'm okay, I swear," Chloe swallows, and she picks her gun up. "Keep driving, please."

On the screen, Brooke nods thoughtfully. "Guess that works too."

Dana, sniffling and wiping more tears from her eyes, asks, "What did you just do?"

"Threw a bomb," Chloe says.

Ahead the tunnel ends, leading out onto a wide road before meeting a bridge; Chloe whips her phone from her pocket, glancing at the time. If they time it just right…

"Um, um, the bridge is rising up, Chloe," Max says, gaze fixed straight ahead of them as the two portions of the bridge begin lifting, right as the two of them leave the tunnel and are bathed in moonlight and streetlight.

"Perfect," Chloe says, and apparently Max is expecting a different response because she chokes, " _Perfect?"_

"Max, floor it, right now," Chloe commands as she buckles herself in, and Max sputters, "Floor it? Chloe, the bridge is fucking rising, are you serious?!"

Chloe glances in the rearview mirror. About twenty more seconds. If they time it just right…

"Floor it, _please!"_ Chloe says again, and Max manages to get out a "I hate this" before she slams her foot on the gas.

The closer portion of the bridge rises up to meet them, lifting upward in the air and they ignore the maintenance man frantically waving his arms at them; they smash through the little wooden pole sticking out, and then the car's speeding up an incline that rises higher and higher.

"I hate this," Max whispers, just as their car speeds over the edge.

They arc across the gap between the two halves, zero gravity rising up to meet them, and the two momentarily lift up out of their seats, hearts pounding in the silence of space, floating and gripping onto the wheel or an armrest, something to tether them to reality; Chloe looks at the rearview mirror again, sees Nathan's Maserati just about to speed up off the other half as it rises into the air-

The wheels hit the ground on the other half, Chloe almost slamming face-first into the dashboard if it weren't for the seat-belt; she can't help the small gasp of pain that leaves her lips as the belt presses hard against her shoulder, and she feels another small burst of blood leave the hole. Hope it was worth it.

When she looks back at the rear view mirror in the the next millisecond, Nathan's car explodes in the air between the two halves, and forces unbalance his Maserati, preventing the front wheels from touching the other side; she watches it collide front first into their half of the bridge, and then fall back, flaming and burning.

Totally worth it.

Max gets them down their half of the bridge and onto level ground again, gripping the wheel and controlling the brakes well enough that the two end up skidding in a half-circle before coming to a stop on the other side. The engine slows to a quiet purr, leaving them listening to nothing but their own panting.

"Well," Dana says, breaking the silence. "Good to know you both came out in one piece. You did wonderfully, Max, make sure to take a break later. Good night, both of you." Her half of the screen goes dark, and then Brooke takes up the rest.

"Ingenious as always, Agent Price," Brooke says, and she even manages a relieved smile. "You did great work today, Miss Caulfield. Actually managed to save the car," she chuckles. "Agent Price could really benefit from having someone like you around. Anyway, night to you both." Her screen cuts to black as well, leaving them alone.

For a minute or more, they sit there, breathing hard, staring out at the Berlin buildings ahead of them.

"We did it," Chloe breathes, turning to look at Max. "You did it, Max."

Max nods, and for the first time that night, she takes her hands off the wheel. "We fucking did it."

And Chloe isn't sure who starts first, but maybe she starts chuckling a little, and Max tries to repress her giggles but then the two of them burst out laughing, together in Berlin.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay! We've been very busy. Thanks to Amy (mostlymilkwood) for beta'ing!

As soon as they get through the hotel door, Max careful to lock it behind them, they just burst into giggles again. Max is sure it’s about sixty percent hysteria on her part- the _car_ , the guns, the _bridge_ , Jesus _Christ_ \- but at least the other forty percent is relief, adrenaline still buzzing low in her veins. She leans back against the door with Chloe on her other side, who’s still wheezing with laughter herself, and tilts her head back, closing her eyes and chuckling. 

An adventure. 

Chloe’s voice cuts across her reverie suddenly. “You- ahem, you okay?”

Max opens her eyes again, and turns her head to look sideways at Chloe, who’s dabbing at her eyes with one hand and still giggling like a girl. Max has never heard her laugh like this, rushed and breathy and not at all suave, and it’s stupid how endearing it is. “I’m- I’m fine, I just- jeez.” 

“Mmhm,” Chloe hums, then giggles again. “You were so badass, Max. Taking the jump like that.”

Sputtering, Max leans her temple more firmly against the door to get a better look at Chloe, show her more incredulity. “Me? You were the one hanging out the window of a speeding car- throwing _bombs_ \- oh my god, your watch was a bomb the _whole time_?”

When Chloe glances over, still chuckling, one of her eyebrows is raised, as if to question the fact that Max had expected any less. “It was completely safe and under control, Miss Caulfield.”

Max’s shriek of “ _Apparently_!” just sends Chloe into a giggle fit again, and Max can’t help but fall back into laughter beside her, both exhausted and shot through with energy at once. 

It’s sweet, for a moment, to just be the two of them, leaning against the doorframe and laughing together.

Then Chloe’s laughter tapers off, and she pushes forward, wincing a little at the movement. “Hm. Anyway, that was fun, but uh. Where’s the first aid kit?”

The laughter comes to a short sudden halt in Max’s throat. “Uh, next to the bed, but why-”

“Got shot in the shoulder,” Chloe says, nonchalantly, then heads over towards the bed, left hand coming up to grip her right shoulder in a vise.

For a moment, Max is just frozen, watching her move. Then she surges forward. “What the fuck? You were _shot_?”

“Mmhm,” Chloe says noncommittally, squatting near the suitcases and looking critically over her mess of clothes and equipment. “I can patch it up, so if you wanna take a shower or something, I’ll just be out here-”

“What the fuck!” Max says, still horrified but colored with exasperation now, kneeling down beside Chloe to impatiently pull the first aid kit out from underneath a pile of wrinkled pants. “You’ve been shot in the arm, I’m not going to go take a shower- go sit down, I’ll do it.”

Chloe just blinks at her, uncomprehending. “Do what?”

Only after she’s opened the kit and starting unravelling bandages does Max realize she might not have led with enough preamble. “Oh, um- I can. Patch you up. I have experience in medicine. And it’ll be cleaner if I do it than you, Miss Hole in my Arm.”

“There’s not a hole in my arm,” Chloe grouses, but at least she straightens up, starts making her way towards the armchair in the corner of the room. “And where did you learn medicine?”

Max bites her lip, following Chloe in light steps to the armchair, kicking off her shoes and kneeling down beside it. “Um, Afghanistan- I spent a lot of time in the hospital tent, remember?” 

It’s small, but she sees Chloe pause for a moment before easing into the armchair, hissing a little at the movement. “Right. Yeah. Okay, I trust you.”

Nodding, terse, Max sets down the box and helps Chloe shrug off her jacket, easing it careful over the shoulder. She swallows at the pained hiss Chloe lets out when it passes over the wound, and bites her lip for a second time at the blood staining through the arm and sides of her shirt. 

It’s a lot of red.

“I-” Max says, and she’s reaching for Chloe’s collar before she remembers to hesitate, fingers hovering in the air just outside the buttons. “I’m gonna need to- is it okay if-”

“Mm,” Chloe hums, almost half-disinterested, like it’s nothing, but when Max looks up again Chloe’s eyes are locked on her face, unblinking. 

She’s losing blood. Max hurriedly looks down again, goes to unbutton her shirt and ease it off, probably too focused on the movement, probably too pointedly focused on anything but Chloe’s bare skin.

Her bra is black, and Max’s first thought is that it’s kind of impractical to wear a black bra under a white buttonup, and then her second thought is that she shouldn’t be thinking too much about Chloe’s underwear, and then third is that Chloe’s still bleeding.

She hurries to look at the wound- it’s on Chloe’s upper arm, blood oozing rather than soaking now, and it makes her a little queasy even now but she’s going to fix this.

“It’s a flesh wound,” she murmurs, one hand on the opposite arm of Chloe’s chair for balance and shifting on her haunches. “It’s not… clean, but the bullet’s not in you, so that’s good. I can clean it and- oh, there’s morphine in here, I can give you morphine- and do stitches. It’s not going to be professional but I can do it and you won’t get infected or die. Is- is that okay?”

It’s hard not to look at Chloe’s face again, but Max can hear the grin in her voice and that’s enough. “Sounds optimal.”

The ballgown’s restrictive. Max hadn’t really thought about that when she first said she’d take care of the wound, but now that Chloe’s shirt is off and the first aid kit is open, it’s too late to change out of it. Instead, she has to hike up her skirt over her knees, swipe fruitlessly at the back of her dress for a moment before finding the zipper and easing it down to free up her arms. The fabric gets looser around her shoulders and forearms, and she shrugs a couple of times to get room to shift.

She looks up at Chloe, once, then decides she can’t do that again. The way Chloe’s gaze flicks from her bare skin to her face, eyes large and pooling in the dusty yellow light, isn’t supposed to be more significant than the blood.

So Max looks back at the wound, and bites her lip before reaching for it. “I’m not an expert at this or anything, okay? Say something if I’m fucking up, don’t let me hurt you.”

“You can’t,” Chloe says, like it’s easy, and it is very hard not to look at her then, with the softness and closeness of her voice breathing through the hair on Max’s neck. Hurriedly, Max rolls her shoulders to hide a shiver, and her sleeves slip farther down her arms.

Chloe’s very quiet as Max does what she can do with her arm, which is as unnerving as it is relieving- there’s no hissing, no shifts of discomfort, not even a falter in breath when Max plucks needles in and out of her skin. It’s probably better than sounds of pain, and Max is thankful if Chloe’s just holding it in for her sake, but this long, immovable silence still feels unnatural, artificial somehow. 

It makes it feel like this is a routine, instead of an incident. 

Max is too afraid to be the one to break the silence, at least until she’s completely done, so it’s only when Chloe’s skin is closed again, pink all over and red-dark at the seams, when she says, tentatively, “How- how does that feel?”

She still doesn’t look up to receive Chloe’s soft answer of “fine,” and she gives a little huff of a laugh at the cheekier follow up of, “never better,” but still with her eyes on the cut. Unsure now of what to do with her hands, she reaches for a rag again, goes to wipe away whatever residue is easy to imagine there.

Her other hand is finding Chloe’s opposite forearm for balance when Chloe suddenly says, “Max?” and that nearly sends her flat on her ass. 

But she catches herself, gripping Chloe’s other forearm harder and leaning more into where Chloe’s curled towards her, spine in tangent to the armchair. “Mm? Yeah?”

“You were really brave tonight.” 

This time Max really does stumble a little on her haunches, has to let go of Chloe for a second to right herself and come onto her knees instead of her ankles. For a flash of a second she catches Chloe’s gaze, but it’s not long enough to get stuck in them, in the lowly lit and liquid way of them. “Oh, I- thanks. Um, you were too.”

“I mean it, supergirl,” Chloe says, and Max hates, hates that she doesn’t have to look up to know the small smile tugging at her mouth, she can just hear it in the lilt in her voice, recognize it. “You were amazing.”

Max snorts, reaching down to dip the rag back in water. “I wasn’t the one hanging out a speeding car door window to throw bombs with a hole in my arm, Chloe, but thanks.”

It’s the injured arm that Chloe uses to catch Max’s wrist when she lifts the rag again, and it startles her, the movement sudden and sharp after nearly an hour of complete mobility. It’s enough to get her looking up at Chloe again, surprised into it. 

“I’ve done that a hundred times, Max,” Chloe says solemnly, then breaks the tone for a second to shrug. “Ish. But- you went way, way out of your comfort zone, Max. I know that. And you were awesome. You were… exactly what I needed you to be. Thank you.”

This eye contact thing was a _mistake_. Max feels trapped, her wrist in Chloe’s hand and the rest of her in her gaze.

The words, “Don’t look at me like that,” come tumbling out of her mouth before she can stop them, and she winces, just slightly, but unfortunately it’s not enough to break the locked gaze between them. 

One of Chloe’s eyebrows rises, but it doesn’t affect the smoldering look at all. If anything, her gaze just becomes more intense. “Like what?”

_Like you want to eat me alive_. 

But Max isn’t going to say that, she doesn’t have that little impulse control. Instead, she physically has to shake her head and glance away, just for a moment, to catch her breath. She drops the rag, but Chloe still doesn’t let go of her wrist. 

“Nothing,” Max says, because that’s all she can find coherent in her thoughts and in her mouth. “Um, if you’re set, I can-”

“ _Max_ ,” Chloe says, in the same sudden solemn way as before, and Max has to work to hold her head where it is, her gaze at the space of her skin showing through Chloe’s fingers. 

“What?” Careful, measured.

“Listen,” she continues, as if Max is doing anything but focusing too hard on Chloe, on her words and her skin and the way everything in Max feels prickly like it’s cold even though the room is yellow-lit and warm and soothing. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

Max said a lot earlier. Chloe could be referring to one of many stupid things. “What did I say earlier?”

She can’t help but meet Chloe’s gaze this time, but when she does she’s ready for it, the both of them level. It just looks like Chloe was waiting for her, still unblinking, still unyielding. 

She says, “Did you mean it when you said you’d never met anyone like me?”

Oh. That Max does remember, even if it feels like it was said much longer ago than a few hours. 

But still. It was a lot easier to say on a bustling dancefloor in early evening than in this empty room in dead night.

She wonders if Chloe thinks so too. She says, “Did you?” and their faces are so, so close, closer than she thought they were, closer than they should be. 

It’s especially apparent when Chloe breathes “ _yes_ ,” and her hand moves from Max’s wrist to cusp the back of her head, tilt it just slightly, and their noses are coming parallel and Chloe’s breath is warm and heavy on her face. And if Chloe kisses her then neither of them can ever take it back and Max will have to live with it and Max wants this, she _wants_.

And it’s that realization, more than anything, that has her pulling away, out of Chloe’s light grip and onto her feet, startled like a rabbit in the face of a fox.

“I,” she says, and she only looks at the surprise in Chloe’s expression for a half a second, at where her hand is clasping the air as if Max is still filling that space, before she looks above her head. “I, uh- I’m so sorry, I need to shower, if you want to sleep then just go ahead and take the bed, I’ll be out in a second. If- if you need anything, just shout, okay?” 

Chloe blinks. Max skitters. 

Everything that brings her into the shower is mechanical- hurried, automatic movements until she’s under cold water with her head in her hands. 

She’s not a one night stand girl. Max knows herself, better than anyone else, and she isn’t someone who falls for someone with notches in their bedpost.

_Chloe’s breath on her face. Chloe’s hand, light on her skin_. 

Max doesn’t fall for people who aren’t going to fall back. 

But her skin is still buzzing, waiting for Chloe’s kiss.

She’s _fucked_.


End file.
